


Silentium Amoris

by FivePips



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Infidelity, M/M, Post HLV, Post His Last Vow, Post S3, Romance, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, casefic, men who do not know how to deal with feelings, post series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FivePips/pseuds/FivePips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seems that the players in the game haven't changed... or have they? </p><p>Moriarty or someone is trying to blow up London. On top of that Sherlock and John have to deal with the fact that Sherlock confessed his loved because he thought he'd never see John again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As often-times the too resplendent sun  
> Hurries the pallid and reluctant moon  
> Back to her sombre cave, ere she hath won  
> A single ballad from the nightingale,  
> So doth thy Beauty make my lips to fail,  
> And all my sweetest singing out of tune.
> 
> And as at dawn across the level mead  
> On wings impetuous some wind will come,  
> And with its too harsh kisses break the reed  
> Which was its only instrument of song,  
> So my too stormy passions work me wrong,  
> And for excess of Love my Love is dumb.
> 
> But surely unto Thee mine eyes did show  
> Why I am silent, and my lute unstrung;  
> Else it were better we should part, and go,  
> Thou to some lips of sweeter melody,  
> And I to nurse the barren memory  
> Of unkissed kisses, and songs never sung. 
> 
> \---Silentium Amoris, Oscar Wilde

Sherlock had always hated movies or books or televisions programs that had a man giving a grand statement of love before going off into battle of some sort ( _be it war or a big meeting or a sport event, ect._ ), leaving the woman behind to sulk and/or swoon over the hero. But there he was, confessing his love for John Watson like some simple idiot when he knew that he was going to be dead in six months time.  
  
He had left before, not sure if he was ever going to be coming back and never said a word. He told himself the two years that he was gone that if he ever needed to leave John again he would tell him what his true feelings were. Not that Sherlock felt that he should have to because everything he had done from the time he met the jumper wearing army doctor who lived off of thrills up until he shot Magnussen had been done out of love. He needed to protect Mary in order to protect John.  
  
Sentiment, it was disgusting and it made him almost hate John as much as he loved him. He loved him in a very consuming and confusing way so maybe it was less than almost. But before the infuriating little man came along he didn’t have to worry about those things. All that mattered before him was The Work, everything else was just neatly tucked to the side.  
  
It was now or never, never was starting to feel like a very good option.  
  
“John, there’s something I should say… I ah… I meant to say always and never have. Since it’s unlikely we’ll never meet again I might as well say it now.” The words didn’t sound right as he spoke so he stopped for a moment to collect himself. He didn’t want to be clumsy with the next bit.  
  
The silence stretched out for too long and John was looking very concerned and nervous.  
  
 _Sherlock is actually a girl’s name_ , briefly crossed his mind. It would have been funny. John would have laughed, they would have hugged or something in parting. It would have been a nice clean way to back out of the words that had be stored in a box in the corner of John’s room in his mind palace for years now.  
  
After what seemed like ages he finally opened his mouth and let the words tumble out, “I am in love with you. I’ve loved you for a very long time and everything I’ve done has been for you. Also, thank you. For everything. I rather enjoyed our friendship.” That was an interesting feeling, letting John know his deepest secret. It had always been difficult to express his feelings out loud. When he did it was normally done in a passive aggressive, sarcastic sort of way. John was the only person in his life to ever let him be able to do that.  
  
John opened and closed his mouth, resembling a fish for a moment. Clearly Sherlock needed to say something else because John wasn’t able to respond. It reminded Sherlock of when John had asked him to be his best man. He was left to wonder what John’s internal dialogue was, wishing he could really read minds like the doctor always said that he did.  
  
“You don’t need to say anything, please.” Sherlock assured him. He already knew how John felt, the man was obvious in all his actions and words. Everyone else knew it but John it seemed.  
  
“I… I’m married.” John stuttered out.  
  
Married to a seven month pregnant international assassin, who he had only recently began speaking with again after months of nearly ignoring her all together and shacking up with Sherlock in 221B. Not that Sherlock had any grudges against Mary but that was not the point.  
  
“I know. We went over that before.”  
  
There had been a discussion ( _actually, numerous discussions_ ) of what John was going to do about Mary as they approached Christmas. John had given himself the deadline of Christmas to decide what to do with the rest of his life. Sherlock urged him to return to her, it was the only thing that made sense. Sherlock, no matter how he felt for John, would never be able to give him anything close to normalcy. Not that a wife who was a hired killer was normal per say but it was John Watson normal because on top of the possible shootings and espionage from time to time she gave him all those emotional, gooey things that John wanted.  
  
“I don’t know what to say.” He ran a hand through his hair and Sherlock felt something in the pit of his stomach as he remembered that those fingers would never be in his hair again. _Stupid_.  
  
“It’s fine. It’s all fine.” Sherlock stuck out his hand because that’s what one does before leaving, right? There was no way he was going to be hugging John at the moment. “To the very best of times, John.” He wasn’t sure why he had said that but there was something in that moment that said things needed to be wrapped up.  
  
John’s grip was weak and he looked as if he was going to be sick. He thankfully didn’t say another word and let go of Sherlock’s hand.  
  
Without another look at anyone else on the tarmac Sherlock boarded the plane, heading for his death.  
  
He had long ago accepted the fact that he was going to die at a young age. He didn’t think that it was going to be because he was paying the price for killing someone in order to protect the wife of the man that he loved. He assumed it’d be an accidental overdose or a bad batch or maybe a bomb or a stray bullet or a creative serial killer. He hoped for something puzzling.  
  
But still death did not scare him, unless he thought too much about it and he let his mind wondered if there was an after life that could be terribly tedious. He would like to say it was improbable but even though he had died for a brief time before… technically twice… he had no real evidence on life after death. He suspected there was none but he couldn’t rule it out.  
  
The plane took off and Sherlock looked out the window to see John still standing there, shrinking small and smaller. He couldn’t stop the tears that welled up and stung his eyes. For the third time John Watson was making him cry ( _1\. The phone call goodbye over two years ago. He was sure he was never going to be back then too. 2. When John accepted his apology on the train. He had played it off as an act that lead to a laugh but for some reason the whole thing hit him in an odd way. 3. Right now_ ). How was it possible that the man affected him so much?  
  
He took a deep breath and composed himself. Crying was not the answer to anything. It was not going to help his cause and it only clouded his thinking. But he couldn’t stop the ache in his chest that reminded him how much he was going to miss John like a limb again. There was a possibility that he could survive the mission and eventually return home after completing various government tasks without being killed or kidnapped and forgotten. It was a slight chance but still a chance. Not that returning home would be a good thing because then John would feel as if he needed to do something or say something for Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock didn’t want him to do that because he didn’t want him to hurt Mary.  
  
Mary. Mary. Mary. Or Anna Gertrude Rose-Allston as she was known by the Central Intelligence Agency. That was her given name it seemed but she had numerous aliases in all of the countries she worked.  
  
Of course Sherlock took a look at the drive that she had given to John. It was rather interesting from what he saw. He didn’t have time to look too deep because John had found him looking at it when he came home early from the pub and made him promise not to look further or tell John what was on there because it was very important to him.  
  
He oddly liked Mary. She lied beautifully and was so artful in her cover that it took far too long for Sherlock to see through the whole façade. Not that he was looking very hard because he trusted John’s judgement. His deductions of her showed that she lied but many people lied so he stopped worrying about it.  
  
Mary may have lied about her past but at least she was good enough for John. She would keep him happy when he was gone and she would keep the limp and the nightmares away.  
  
Things were better for John with out Sherlock. Before Sherlock came back he had Mary and they were happy and no one had to reveal any dirty little secrets. But Magnussen existed still and he would have destroyed them anyway… well, maybe it was for the best he was back. At least Mary and John didn’t need to get their hands messy. They needed their house in the suburbs with the occasional spot of action.  
  
Not four minutes later the large man who was escorting him to his destination ( _SIS agent, two dogs, habitual cheater on his wife of five years_ ) came over with a phone saying that Mycroft was calling for him.  
  
“Mycroft.”  
  
“Hello brother, how’s the exile going?”  
  
“I’ve only been gone four minutes.” The consulting detective snapped at his infuriating brother.  
  
“Well, I certainly hope you learned your lesson. As it turns out, you’re needed.”  
  
Sherlock was hit with a mix of feelings. He immediately went with anger because everything else had him dealing with the fact that he was going to have to go back and face John. That was terrifying in a way that Moriarty and Magnuessen were not to Sherlock.  
  
“For god’s sake, make up your mind. Who needs me this time?”  
  
“England.”  
  
“I could have sworn that’s what my current exile was about? If you don’t begin to explain -”  
  
“At this very moment every single station in our country is showing an image of a grinning Jim Moriarty with the text ‘miss me?’ along with various voices asking the same question.”  
  
Sherlock sat straight up, his eyes bulging open, “Impossible. Improbable!” He had saw Moriarty put a bullet into his brain and bleed out right in front of him. The amount of blood that was lost alone would have killed him. There was no way he could have survived, not to mention Mycroft was positive it was his body that was recovered from the top of the roof. There was no way around it. It had to be his network. But hadn’t they finished them all?  
  
“I know, that’s why you’ve been given a stay.” Mycroft said as the plane began it’s descent.  
  
Sherlock tossed the phone aside and started to make a list of all the possibilities. The most obvious reason for all this was another person in Moriarty’s network that was unknown to them. But this person would need help. They must have been as brilliant as Jim. How interesting but also how intensely maddening that he missed such a large player in The Game. Jim would be so disappointed in him.  
  
The plane touched down and soon he was back on the tarmac looking at John and Mary. There had been a few minutes where he had forgotten about having to deal with what had happened but facing John was a very good reminder. He needed to focus on the case. Not John.  
  
“Welcome back, my dear brother.” Mycroft tapped his umbrella.  
  
“So, that East Wind thing, sure you’re not it instead of being taken away by it?” Thank god John was able to repress his emotions like a good Englishman when needed.  
  
Sherlock did what he was best at and ignored all his feelings towards John and, really, John in general because The Work was what that was important.  
  
“Mycroft, what do your minions know? I believe that it’s nothing but it’s worth it to ask in case they’ve finally decided to make themselves useful for once in their existences. I need as much data as I can get my hands on. There has to be a way to trace this, it can’t be untraceable at this scale. Take me somewhere I can work. Either Baker Street or Scotland Yard. Not your offices, they suffocate me and I always have the vague feeling that I’m being watched.” He demanded, climbing into the black car and waited for everyone else to follow but they all stood there like idiots.  
  
The video screen on the dashboard of the car was playing the broadcast, Sherlock scrambled out of the car in order to sit in the passenger seat. This gave him a good view of the screen and he didn’t have to face John and Mary.  
  
“Get in - NOW!” Sherlock yelled and they all listened this time.  
  
When they finally began to drive, “Are you ready to play a game?” Moriarty asked with a devilish smile.  
  
Sherlock punched the dashboard of the car. What did he miss before?

**——6 Months Ago——**

“You need to stop dying on me.” John’s voice sounded very far away even though he could feel the weight of his solid form on the bed, holding tight to his left hand. “It’s getting rather old. Your heart stopped again so you need to stop trying to convince me that you don’t have one.” He forced himself to laugh, obviously trying to inject lightness into the situation.  
  
Sherlock blinked a few times and his vision came into focus but things still had an odd haziness around the edges. That was probably the morphine. Lovely, lovely morphine.  
  
“Do you need anything?” John asked in a very doctor tone. Sherlock always liked being John’s patient. He had a very good bedside manner and his touches were always soft and soothing.  
  
Sherlock shook his head and reached out to adjust the dial for the drip. He forgot how much moving hurt with a chest wound but at least more morphine would fix that.  
  
He looked over to John again who had a deep frown on his face. Sherlock wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid that the detective was going to develop a dependency on the drug or if he was thinking about the fact that his wife had shot his best friend and he had just found out the truth of Mary Morstan.  
  
Sherlock hesitated to ask, “Where is Mary?” He wasn’t sure if John was going to lash out in anger or not. He was very upset back at Baker Street, even with Sherlock who had done nothing for once.  
  
“She went back home, well I made her go back home.” John twisted his hands in his lap.  
  
“Mmm.” Sherlock had no idea what to say to John. He had no point of reference for this type of conversation.  
  
Luckily John was very good at filling in silences with banal conversation, “Are you feeling ok? I mean, I know you feel like shite but is anything wrong? How’s your pain? That was a bloody awful stunt you pulled back there. I know why you did it but I wish you waited until you could have got out of bed with out the internal bleeding bit.”  
  
“I’m fine.” Sherlock coughed, suddenly realizing that his throat felt as if he swallowed a cup of sawdust.  
  
“You need water.” John got up from the bed to pour him a glass from the pitcher on the side table. “I’m glad you called emergency because I’m an idiot but you already know that. I was so ticked that I didn’t even think about the effects of you being on your feet like that for so long.” Sherlock noticed that John’s hand was shaking as he held the glass.  
  
“Did you look at the drive she gave you?” Sherlock to the water from John. “I know you’re talking a lot because you don’t want to talk about it so you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I -”  
  
“No, I haven’t.”  
  
Sherlock took three gulps of water then sputtered.  
  
“Easy.” John took the cup from him and set it aside. “I don’t know if I want to look. If I have any chance for a normal life…”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“I know you think it’s stupid and you want to comb through it with a fine tooth comb but I… I can’t do it. Not right now at least. If I did it, it’d be out of anger and that would lead me to the wrong decision. I think I just need some time.”  
  
“Some time?” Sherlock repeated, raising his eyebrow.  
  
“You were right to move my chair back.” The doctor sighed, hanging his head a bit. John hated that he was being made to test his loyalty to Mary.  
  
“You’re moving back to Baker Street?” Sherlock shifted a bit so he didn’t need to keep his neck turned to look at John.  
  
“For now, I don’t know what I’m going to do for good. Plus, you’re going to need someone to look after you.” John put his hand on Sherlock’s arm. Generally, he did not like people touching him but John was different. When John touched him it felt grounding, very strange.  
  
“I hardly need your mollycoddling.” Sherlock chewed on his lip. He didn’t need John’s mollycoddling but he did enjoy and miss it. “I told you, you can trust her. She’s on our side, we need to get Magnuessen. That’s our job..”  
  
John snorted, “I know what you said but my wife has been lying to me for a few years now. We can take out Magnussen because that’s a case but me and Mary, we’re something else. So I just need to take a step back on that for a little while. With you being incapacitated for now, that’s good for me.” He paused, “Plus, I know that you secretly love my mollycoddling.”  
  
It was now Sherlock’s turn to snort in response.  
  
“Mrs Hudson will be happy she doesn’t have to deal with your complaining.”  
  
“She enjoys my complaining.” Sherlock licked his cracked lips.  
  
“No one actually enjoys hearing you complain about things. Well, except for you because you love to hear your own voice.”  
  
Suddenly his eye lids felt very heavy, “I’m very tired John.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s the drugs and such. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up again.”  
  
“Good.” He said around a yawn before letting sleep pull him in.


	2. Chapter 2

John Watson was one hundred percent positive that he was having auditory hallucinations because Sherlock Holmes said that he loved him and then Jim Bloody Moriarty was back? His life was just one sick joke after another if it wasn’t the hallucinations. Not that hallucinations are good… Was he schizophrenic? Maybe it was the stress and all the sleep he had been missing the last week and a half-ish. Not that his sleep was perfect and the stress was any less the months before that. It was probably a new symptom. Maybe it was all in his mind and he was still in a hospital bed with an infection.  
  
But he was not that lucky of a bloke. This was definitely reality because it was being so fucking cruel.  
  
Sherlock Holmes said that he had loved him. Always loved him. Did everything for him. Fucking hell. The man just dropped these things on him and left and expected him to deal with it. Nooooo, why would anyone tell another person they loved them way before being sent to exile for what apparently was the rest of his life, like say in bed or over a nice dinner? That’s far too easy and normal. John would have been fine with his confession of love over a decapitated body for Christ’s sake.  
  
How the bloody hell Mycroft got him out of jail time for killing an important member of the international press community in cold blood was a mystery. Of course he was able to though because he was Mycroft Holmes. The British Government.  
  
John had always suspected Sherlock was in love with him. In some weird Sherlocky type of way, that is because regular love is really normal and normal is boring. There were the touches and the looks and the shagging and the sleeping in John’s bed at night pretending that he hated to cuddle while he wrapped himself around John. He never thought Sherlock would tell him though because Sherlock didn’t work that way. Feelings were messy and only got in the way of The Work.  
  
He had no real time to deal with the fact that Sherlock just told him that he loved him before Mary came over.  
  
“All right? You’re looking a bit green.” She spoke softly.  
  
He just nodded as Mary took his hand. He hated the voice in the back of his head that reminded him of Mary’s lies from time to time. Schizophrenia was really a possible explanation, huh? Or it was just his conscience.  
  
“I know how much he means to you and losing him again can’t be easy.”  
  
No, it wasn’t going to be easy but at least he had some practice after last time. Lots of practice because he mourned from the moment Sherlock jumped off the roof up until he was standing in front of him again. Yes, it lessened over time but he was still doing it.  
  
Before Sherlock jumped from the roof a few years ago he had realized that he loved Sherlock in more than the brother in arms sort of love that he always thought they had shared. He was head over heels in love with the mad bastard in fact. He came to the conclusion one night when things were quiet. They had just settled down for the night. Sherlock looked open and happy, not a care in the world. Yes, his brain was still flooded with a nice cocktail of post-orgasm chemicals but he knew that it was real because the feeling didn’t go away the next morning or the morning after that.  
  
He had to deal with that himself because if he had told Sherlock he was sure that the man would have ran away because that was what Sherlock did when he started to feel uncomfortable. Not that it mattered because Sherlock was jumping off a roof and disappearing for two years soon after.  
  
Now he was going to have to deal with Sherlock telling him that he had loved him all along, just like John did, alone. How exactly was the whole thing fair? Sherlock didn’t have to work through anything. He just took off on a plane and left John to work on his feelings of losing his best friend and the man he loved aside the fact that they could have had something more than a friends/colleagues/flatmates with benefits thing that they had. Life could have been a lot different because Mary wouldn’t have been around and Sherlock wouldn’t have killed someone like that.  
  
“We should probably go home now.” Mary said softly after a few minutes of standing there in silence. “If you want, that is.” She wasn’t going to tell him to do anything because she had been walking on egg shells around him since he took her back.  
  
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He needed to go home and get on with his life because he had a baby girl come. Christ, a child.  
  
“That is simply not possible!”  
  
Mary and John turned to Mycroft who was getting out of his car again. He was not looking happy, not the Mycroft ever looked happy before but something was wrong.  
  
“What’s happened?” John asked, approaching him. He was thinking maybe Sherlock hijacked the plane or something, that was a possibility.  
  
“Moriarty.” Mycroft explained the whole deal with someone hacking in and broadcasting the image.  
  
When Mycroft went back into his car, “But he’s dead. I mean, you told me he was dead, Moriarty.”  
  
“Absolutely. Blew his own brains out.”  
  
“So how can he be back?”  
  
John heard a plane approaching, Sherlock was coming back. Who else was going to be taking down Moriarty… or whoever this was? “Well, if he is, he better wrap up warm. There’s an east wind coming.”  
  
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was going to have to deal with Sherlock, who no doubt was freaking out over the fact that he told John he loved him and now had to face him again. What happened was unSherlock like and when Sherlock did something out of his norm, he freaked out like Baskerville. That meant John was going to be picking up the pieces for the both of them. Maybe he would have been better off if Sherlock just kept flying to wherever he was going.  
  
 _What if Sherlock actually wants to deal with it? What if he gets to stay?_ _Shit._

What the hell was he going to do about Mary and the baby? Whoa, does that mean he loved Sherlock more? Fucking bloody hell. That tall genius bastard.  
  
“It’s all right he’s coming back? Isn’t he exiled for killing someone?” Mary questioned.  
  
“I was asked to bring him back.” Mycroft informed them when the plane was taxiing towards them.  
  
“Because he knows what he’s dealing with?”  
  
“Precisely, no one knows James Moriarty better than Sherlock Holmes.”  
  
“It can’t be him, can it?” John still didn’t understand how it was possible for the man to be a live. But then again Sherlock survived. BUT Sherlock saw Jim shot himself and the death was confirmed by Mycroft.  
  
“It can’t be but I think whoever it is is just as dangerous.”  
  
Sherlock was now jogging over to them. John couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Sherlock so angry. Surely the situation then had something to do with dear old Jim.  
  
The consulting detective refused to meet eye contact with John, even after he made another stupid remark about the East Wind story. Clearly he needed to title his blog post about all this with something to do with that.  
  
Once Sherlock barked orders at everyone they began to head to Scotland Yard. That was when things got really interesting, not that his day needed anymore drama.  
  
“Are you ready to play a game?” Moriarty’s voice trilled and Sherlock punched the dashboard.  
  
“Sherlock, calm down.” He said but Sherlock went on ignoring John’s existence for the time being.  
  
“Boys and girls, there are ten bombs hidden around your lovely city of London. If you try to dismantle them they will blow up. If you don’t follow the orders you are about to receive, they will go off. I’m sure you’d hate a mass casualty event.”  
  
John’s stomach was in knots. He hated bombs, he’d much rather be shot at, thank you very much. At least you can attempt to defend yourself against the enemy and there was less of a chance to have a high civilian body count.  
  
“Within the next hour the most important people in the land will be contacted with instructions of what to do. If you don’t hear a big ‘boom’ in the next hour following then you’ll know that they followed through. If not, lives will be lost and only the people in power will be to blame. See you soon, my darlings!”  
  
John was just then aware of the fact that he was holding tight to Mary’s hand.  
  
“That was shot three years ago, at least. It was before his trial. He hasn’t aged at all, in anyway. Not to mention he’s wearing the same suit he wore at his trial. Jim was very concerned about his looks, there’s no way he’d be sporting a suit that was three years old. Not to mention he’s missing a giant hole in his head.” Sherlock rattled off. “If it wasn’t prerecorded he would have given the instructions for everyone to hear because he’s so dramatic and is obviously trying to cause a disturbance in the city but he’s dead so he can’t do it himself. Whoever is working for him is smart enough to not expose their identity.”  
  
“What’s going to be the instructions?” John asked.  
  
“I can’t tell the future, John, we have to wait.” Sherlock snapped at him. Yep, that was exactly how he was expecting Sherlock to deal with his feelings.  
  
“You should be a bit nicer to the Doctor, Sherlock. He’s just asking you to help.” Mycroft looked at John as if he knew what had happened between them before Sherlock almost left. Would it be that much of a surprise if he did?  
  
“Ok, so, what? We just wait?” John turned his attention to the eldest Holmes because clearly he couldn’t be speaking to Sherlock at the moment.  
  
“We’ll get him set up at Scotland Yard, I’ve already texted Gregory.”  
  
“Don’t you think there’s a bomb there?”  
  
“It’s probable.”  
  
“Mary, you need to go home.”  
  
Sherlock scoffed at John’s idea, “She in as much danger there, if not more. We have no idea where the bombs are located. If this person wants to incite riots, why not blow up the suburbs. Mary and your unborn child are safer with us. This person, these people could be after Mary for all we know.”  
  
He was probably right, not to mention Mary wouldn’t be leaving any way because she found the whole thing too interesting.  
  
Nothing like a day with the man who just confessed his love to him and his lying pregnant wife, chasing down bombs hidden in the city by people who worked with a dead consulting criminal. John hated how much he was looking forward to at least one of the parts of the day.

**——5 Months Ago——**

“So, she lied to you… about being… she’s not a… she’s… a…”  
  
“Yep.” John took a long drink of his pint as Greg tried to understand the whole Mary being an international spy thing. He wasn't exactly going around and broadcasting it but Greg was apparently shagging Mycroft and Mycroft most likely knew so he was probably going to find out somehow. Plus, he was back to living on Baker Street with Sherlock now that he was out of hospital. Greg would find out about the little separation eventually. He may not be the best DI in the world but he wasn’t an idiot.  
  
Greg was also a nice little touchstone with the real world. He knew what it was like to deal with the Holmes Brothers and knew that you could get sucked into their world. It was good to have a pint at a normal pub without any pretense.  
  
“Christ and she shot…”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“And Sherlock’s fine with it…”  
  
“Mmmhmm. Told me I could trust her and I could go back to her if I really fancied.” He ran his finger around the base of the glass.  
  
“Shite.”  
  
“Exactly.” John sighed.  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
“I have no idea.”  
  
“Are you going to look into the flash drive?”  
  
John shrugged, it still felt too soon to look at it for him, even if he knew he wanted to for sure. Whatever was on there was apparently heavy stuff that was going to change how he looked at her. He didn’t even know how to look at her as it was so was there a difference? He couldn’t do it out of anger though. He needed to wait.  
  
“My advice?”  
  
“Sure…”  
  
“I know you’re a loyal bloke and all that but if you get back with her, do it because you love her and who she is. Don’t do it because of your vows and the fact that she’s carrying your child.”  
  
Greg was right but that was going to be hard to leave those things to the side. He was going to have to do it. He just needed time.  
  
“I’m not sure I’ve been this bloody furious and confused at the same time before.”  
  
“Even when Sherlock came back.”  
  
John considered, “Yeah, ok, I was probably as mad at Sherlock but I got over that quicker.”  
  
By the time he left Greg he was in a decent mood, better than he had been for about  over a month now. He was also a bit pissed and horny… that probably explained his mood. It didn’t help that he found Sherlock stretched out languidly on the sofa in his threadbare PJ bottoms, tight white t-shirt, and silk blue dressing gown.  
  
“John.” Sherlock murmured as John moved closer to him.  
  
He could shag Sherlock. Mary lied to him so what would be the big deal if he shagged Sherlock? They’d done it before. Friends with benefits and all that. It was usually when it suited Sherlock. It wasn’t really the best thing for John in the end because he was in love with the man but what could he do?  
  
The question then, standing there in front of the sofa looking down at those stupidly pouty lips, was would it be a bad at idea at the moment? Probably.  
  
Seeing that he was always going to be a bit self-destructive John straddled Sherlock’s thighs.  
  
“You’re married, John.” Sherlock looked up at him skeptically.  
  
“To a woman who’s lied to me about her identity and who knows what else.” John felt that anger coursing through him again.  
  
“You’re pissed.”  
  
“A bit but I’m capable of making this choice.”  
  
Sherlock eyes roved over him, clearly deducing if it were true. “Fine.”  
  
“Do you want to?” John asked as he leaned down, hovering over Sherlock’s lips.  
  
“It’s been sometime since I’ve had sex, I would say I could go for it.” He had made it almost sound like a business transaction with the tone he was speaking in.  
  
“All right,” John ran his hand up Sherlock’s torso, rucking up his shirt to just above where he had been shot. The scar was raised a looking a bit angry but not infected, just in the process of healing. The scar tissue wasn’t as knotted as John’s. It was going to heal just fine and barely be of any notice. “How’s your chest?”  
  
“It’s fine, Doctor Watson. We each have our battle wounds now.”  
  
“Just making sure.” He licked his lips before pressing a kiss to the center of Sherlock’s sternum. “And you shouldn’t be so happy about being shot.”  
  
“I survived, that’s all that matters, correct?”  
  
John hummed as his lips moved up Sherlock’s long, pale neck leaving kisses and nips along the way to his jaw.  
  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sherlock’s hands were resting on his hips.  
  
“Yes, why?”  
  
“Because I think you’re unsure.”  
  
John pulled back and frowned down at the other man, “What?”  
  
“You’re loyal to a fault, John. When you had girlfriends previously, you never had sex with me until you broke up with them. You’re married to Mary and your relationship is marred at the moment but it is not over. You’re still debating on if you want to stay with her or not. You’re also drunk and I know you’re not out of your mind there is a chance you could regret this is the morning. You’re spiteful, drunk, and aroused.”  
  
“No, you know what, you shouldn’t be engaging in physical activity yet anyway.” He cleared his throat and got off of Sherlock. He felt guilty and embarrassed. “For once, I’d like to make my own choices with you, though. If you just didn’t want to, you could have just said no.”  
  
“I know you may regret it in the morning. I don’t want this to effect our friendship, seeing you’re still having problems letting me back into your life.”  
  
“I - what… what the fuck are you going on about?” John crossed his arms and glared at Sherlock who moved to sit up.  
  
Sherlock shook his head, “You know it’s been different.”  
  
“Of course it’s different! You died, I got married.” John hated Sherlock at that moment. There were a lot of reasons why things with them didn’t feel like before. He couldn’t let himself get so close again to keep himself safe. People in his life forgot about his trust issues, it seemed. “You’re a fucking arse, you know that? You can’t leave it alone for now? I’ve got enough to worry about.”  
  
“I -”  
  
John stomped off to his room, slamming the door behind him to emphasize his point. He knew that Sherlock was right but that didn’t mean that he needed to bring it up.  
  
He took a few deep breathes and dug out the drive Mary had given him from his bedside drawer before taking a seat on the bed. God, did he want to look at what was on there? But it would ruin how his life was. Mary seemed to still want to go on being Mary Morstan and continue their life as it was. She was so desperate to get rid of Magnussen in order to do so. Is that a good relationship though? Was that healthy to live a lie the rest of their life together?  
  
A few minutes later Sherlock opened his door, “You should knock.” John held on tight to the drive.  
  
“I never did before.” Sherlock looked at his feet where he hovered in the doorway. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to avoid disaster tomorrow.”  
  
John nodded, “I know. I probably overreacted.” Sherlock was right. He was always right.  
  
“Can I… would you mind… if I slept in here tonight. Not sex but just sleeping. I keep having these nightmares where I can’t find you and they’re rather terrifying.”  
  
John’s heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach. Sherlock had never said anything to make himself sound so vulnerable before. His irritation was wiped away by the words.

“Yeah, of course.”  
  
He put the flash drive back in his drawer. He was going to have to move it again to hide it from Sherlock. He was sure the curiosity was killing the man.  
  
“Good.” Sherlock shucked off his dressing gown and crawled around John to the other side of the bed.  
  
John left Sherlock to use the loo and change into his own PJ bottoms before joining him back in bed. Sherlock immediately moved so he was able to hold him, “I missed this when you were gone.”  
  
Sherlock hummed.  
  
For a minute he wondered if he should just leave Mary and spend the rest of his life with Sherlock. But it was short lived as he drifted right off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

They were moving far too slow for Sherlock’s liking. Before they could make it to Scotland Yard, or even city limits for that matter, Mycroft received a message:

> You will release Aton Fojtik from custody of the SIS in one hour or the first bomb will be detonated. -JM

Sherlock frowned because that gave him absolutely nothing new to go on. It wasn’t obviously Jim because the note lacked his usual flair. He already knew that a person working for Moriarty was tied to the whole situation.  
  
“If it were really Jim, he’d sign his full name. This is someone with the same initials, convenient.” Sherlock scrubbed his hands through his hair.  
  
“Aton Fojtik is a former gangster that worked under Moriarty’s network. He was one of the last connected to the network that I found. Spy for the KGB and all around deplorable human being, spent a lot of time in the Middle East and Eastern Europe.” He explained to John and Mary because he could hear the unanswered question.  
  
“I know who he is.” Mary revealed to the car.  
  
Sherlock’s eyes went wide and he twisted around in his seat to face the back of the car. It was impossible for her to know about him and not have any knowledge of Moriarty. She wouldn’t miss that detail.  
  
“Of course you do.” John closed his eyes. He was on the verge of blowing up at Mary for her lying once again.  
  
“This is not a time for a domestic.” Sherlock yelled at John. He didn’t want to be angry with him but there were more pressing concerns than the future of his marriage. They could deal with the eventual row later because Mary’s past was going to always be a problem for them.  
  
“I’m sorry that I didn’t realize today would be a day I find out more about Mary’s former life.” John glared at him.  
  
“You could know all about her life but you opted not to, John. I need to know this right now and if you think this is going to ruin your relationship, you need to get out of the car. This is very important. It’s far more important than your marriage.”  
  
The statement was not meant to sound jealous but in the back of his head Sherlock knew that John would possibly perceive it that way. Any thing that referenced Mary in a bad light was going to sound that way to John.  
  
It probably would have been easier if he had never told John. How did he possibly think that it was a good idea when he did it? It didn’t seem as if John wanted to hear it when he said that he loved him. Stupid. Sherlock was an idiot. There was always the chance of him returning, it just happened sooner than he thought and now he had a risk of losing John on top of ruining a very interesting case.  
  
“Fine, whatever. Tell him, it could be important. He needs to know everything.” John looked out the window.  
  
“And do hurry, we only have about fifty-six minutes. Your information may be vital to the case.”  
  
Mary dropped her mask and Sherlock was greeted with the cold killer he saw the night she had shot him and then when she revealed her real self to John unbeknownst to her. He was happy that John was looking away and couldn’t see it.  
  
“Moriarty’s people were after me because I had taken out an agent in the CIA that was working with them. I had figured out who he was and uncovered Moriarty’s network. They helped set up the bombing of the DC metro in 2004 and placed the blame on some terrorist group in the country of Georgia that was basically a wannabe Taliban. It was where I started to find out about Moriarty.  
  
“Long story short, because of this the US government ended up giving weapons to some rebels there because they were against the group and Moriarty profited off of it. The agent I killed was going to kill me because I was too close to bringing it up to everyone’s attention and he was working for him. After that I started looking into the network because I was on the run from them as well as the CIA because I had gone rouge. I made a list and Fojtik was on it. Probably somewhere close to the top mainly because he was pretty scummy.”  
  
Sherlock had too much going on in his mind. He had noticed people in the network dying before he got to them but chalked it up to their business. He finally had some answers on Mary as well. He was beginning to wonder if this whole Moriarty business was happening because of Mary. If it wasn’t they were going to be delighted to find that both Sherlock and Mary were involved in the investigation. He had to remember to not let John out of his sight in case they wanted to use him as a bargaining chip.  
  
John’s fists were clenching on his lap, “So you’re really American. You knew who I was, who Sherlock was, who Moriarty was when you met me? It wasn’t just a passing thing you heard in the media, you knew us all. Did you marry me because of Sherlock? Is that what you didn’t want me to find out? Or is the something worse?”  
  
“Not now, John.” Mycroft cut in.  
  
“Right, my feelings don’t matter to anyone in here. I forgot that. Silly me.” John looked immensely hurt.  
  
“Do you have any idea who this could be?”  
  
Mary shook her head, “You got all the ones that I knew of.”  
  
Sherlock was about to accuse Mary of lying because he felt that he needed to. He could never tell with her if she actually was. She had no obvious tells, her training on top of her cold personality was fantastic.  
  
“You knew he was alive the entire time.” John asked, finally turning to Mary who had her mask back up. Sherlock almost cringed when he heard the pain in the other man’s voice.  He was avoiding looking at Sherlock but by his body language he could tell that John was furious and despondent. “Didn’t you? No, no, don’t answer me.” He coughed and turned his attention back to the window.  
  
With just one look at Mary he knew that she did but Sherlock kept quiet because one, he didn’t want to waste time on it and two, he did not want to hurt John any further.  
  
“If you want to save this numerous people’s lives, you let this man go.” Sherlock said because it was the only logical solution. “I need more time.”  
  
“We don’t negotiate with terrorists, Sherlock. This could be a bluff as well.”  
  
“That’s a terrible mistake that you and the rest of your puppets are making.” Sherlock turned back around in his seat and folded his arms. It was not a bluff. If these people were connected to Moriarty they would not hesitate a moment to blow up a block of flats to make a point. He had not idea what there point was at the moment, other than maybe to have a bit of fun. That was something Jim would have been proud of if he were around. Any way, he needed more information.  
  
“Was the list on your hard drive?”  
  
“With all the information that I could find about everyone and all my information, you know that already, Sherlock.” Mary confirmed and Sherlock groaned.  
  
“There could have been something on there I could have used but your romantic gesture has ruined it.” Who knows what information that the drive held. It could have been facts and people that Sherlock didn’t know. Granted, he was fairly sure he didn’t have anything less than Mary but it was a possibility. She had the potential to have more resources than he did.  
  
“Well, at the moment I’m wishing I would have just let you look into it. You can go on and sulk all you want.”  
  
Sherlock looked in the side-view mirror to see John looking back at him with tight lips and a furrowed brow.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Mary touched his shoulder but he shrugged her off.  
  
“Just… don’t… not right now.” John’s voice was hoarse. “So, you’re going to let these people blow up some civilians in London because you won’t release this bloke? What do you have him for?”  
  
“I’m not able to say, Doctor.”  
  
“It’s fine, I don’t get to know what’s happening in my personal life, why should I be privy to what happens in international and internal governmental secret affairs?” John mumbled, mostly talking to himself.  
  
“He was taken in because of his involvement in a human trafficking ring. As I said he was a spy and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved in some terror plots.” Sherlock explained because it was a stupid thing to not talk about.  
  
The place he had found Fojtik in Russia actually sickened Sherlock, who had spent some of his own time in places of ill repute ( _for the drugs, not the women_ ). It was filled with women, no girls, some younger than twelve. They all had empty eyes and bruise covered bodies. Not to mention the conditions of the place. Sherlock would have been happy to kill Fojtik on the spot but Mycroft said he needed to be questioned further.  
  
“You did it?”  
  
“I did the hard work.” Sherlock said before Mycroft could say that his men were the ones to take him in.  
  
“Stop bragging Sherlock.” Mycroft handed Sherlock his phone back to him. “It’s very unbecoming.”  
  
“It took you long enough to realize that I actually need this again.” He huffed as he turned it on. “I assume you have your people looking for the bombs, especially in the obvious locations.”  
  
“We’re currently sweeping high traffic areas. The Tube has been closed indefinitely.”  
  
“The whole city is going to come to a halt. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s exactly what they wanted.” Broadcasting a message to all of the country and targeting the city of London was clearly meant to induce fear into everyone.  
  
“I need more data.” Sherlock complained. How was he supposed to solve it? “You haven’t gotten back any trace on the email?”  
  
“No.”  
  
This was no good. He needed a secure computer because no one could do anything properly.  
  
“In about forty minutes a bomb is going to be going off somewhere in the city, I hope your people are ready to deal with that Mycroft.”  
  
The car stayed silent the rest of the way into the city as Sherlock attempted to think of what he had missed with Moriarty’s network.

**—4 Months Ago—**

“Sherlock! Are… is that? That’s Mary’s flash drive, isn’t it?” Sherlock shut his computer as soon as he realized John was standing behind him. He could have sworn the man had left for the pub twenty minutes ago.  
  
When John had left earlier he went hunting for the drive because he needed to know what Mary was hiding from them. He felt as if the curiosity of what was on there was eating away at him and he needed to know. It had been over two months since Mary had handed it over to John and John had still not even glanced at it. Well, he had stared at the actual drive for hours at a time, arguing with himself, but he had yet to look at the contents. Sherlock just needed to know.  
  
He knew that John wouldn’t let him look at it and he had not left Sherlock alone in the flat for more than a quick run to the shops since moving back in. He was on leave from his position at the surgery and was probably going to quit because Mary was there. Not to mention Mycroft had mentioned about a position at an A&E somewhere in London.  
  
“You’re back already?” He cleared his throat as he pulled the drive out of it’s port.  
  
“I told you I was getting one pint with Greg, he had to rush off to see your brother. That’s her drive, isn’t it?”  
  
“Now, I know you’re going to be angry with me but I’ve hardly looked at it. What I had got so far was her education, where she was from, her real name, and some of her early work with the CIA.”  
  
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. That was his normal look when he was exasperated from dealing with Sherlock. “I don’t want to know any of that.”  
  
“I won’t tell you.” Sherlock handed the drive back to him.  
  
“You have to swear to me, Sherlock, that you won’t look at this again or let whatever you saw slip from your gob. I can’t have everyone knowing about it but me. That’s happened enough in my life.” John sounded like he was pleading.  
  
“I won’t.” He would not because he didn’t want to risk losing John’s trust… well what he had gained back from John at least since returning and lying about all that.  
  
John sat down in his chair, twiddling with the drive, “Was it bad?”  
  
“You told me not to tell you.”  
  
“I just need to know how bad what you saw was.”  
  
“Nothing that I think would break up you marriage.”  
  
“Sherlock, just the fact that she’s currently living under a new identity she picked up five years ago and lied about it all to me is enough to break up a marriage.”  
  
He slumped down, “Are you leaving her for good then?”  
  
“I don’t know. I love Mary but I don’t know if I love the real person that she is.”  
  
“I believe that she is real with you.” Sherlock offered. He knew that John was eventually going to forgive her and take her back. He just needed some help to get there it seemed.  
  
“How would you know, she fooled you long enough?”  
  
John was right about that and Sherlock hated himself for it. Usually he missed one or two things on someone but figured it over time but Mary dodged that. She was obviously good at having a cover. There was an ice cold person under the warm exterior but were her feelings for John real? Sherlock actually hoped they were.  
  
He never wanted to see John hurt. Mary was perfect for John and he was happy that the doctor found this woman when he was gone but maybe she was too perfect.  
  
“Fair point.” Sherlock drummed his fingers over his bottom lip.  
  
 _Maybe I could just tell John that I’m in love with him. He could leave Mary for good and just stay here for the rest of his life. But he has a child on the way, John won’t leave Mary just for me. I can’t make him choose me, that would not be good for him and it would ruin things as they stand now with us. I’m comfortable with how things are currently. John will be happier with Mary._  
  
“Will you leave Mary?”  
  
“I don’t know, Sherlock. I need more time.” John toed his shoes off. “She kept me in the dark for so long, I should get to take this time to think it over. I wish it wasn’t when she was pregnant with my child. Then again, who knows if it’s actually mine.” He snorted.  
  
“Do believe that she was cheating on you?”  
  
“Anything is a possibility, right? She lied about her identity so why not fidelity?”  
  
“Would you like me to look into that?”  
  
“No, no, just let me deal with this stuff.” John leaned forward and put his hand on Sherlock’s knee.  
  
“Whatever you like, John.”  
  
“You’re being so agreeable, it’s kind of strange.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “I realized that I had made your life hard in the past. It’s about time that I make it somewhat easier. At least for the time being.”  
  
“Then after that you’ll go back to being a twat to me 24/7?”  
  
“I was not purposefully a twat to you, you just perceive it that way.”  
  
“Yeah, right.” John snickered. “All right, I’m done with this for now. Want a cuppa?”  
  
“That would nice.” Sherlock nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone was telling him, ‘not now’ about every sodding thing. When the bloody hell was he supposed to talk to Mary about her actually knowing about him, Sherlock, and Moriarty? Was he ever going to get to talk to Sherlock because he needed to do that before the man was sent off again because he couldn’t leave it like that. But there was no way Sherlock would go for it, not in the middle of a case. Fucking hell.  
  
John sat in the cab next to his lying wife the entire way to Scotland Yard, trying to control his urge to scream at her and ask about all the things he didn’t know. He was sure that his blood pressure was verging on dangerous levels.  
  
It was his own fault, he didn’t look at the what she gave him. Sherlock was right, he was an idiot. What he had learned today was what he suspected Mary didn’t want him to know, she knew all about Sherlock and John before she came into his life probably. There was now a nagging possibility that she knew that Sherlock was alive the whole time. The thought of that made his chest tight and his heart pound. He felt sick.  
  
When they had met Mary was a new nurse at the surgery. She had moved to London from Cardiff and they had hit it off instantly. Their first date was the first time John had any interest to do anything, aside from sulk around over Sherlock, for almost a year. They got on so well, John couldn’t believe that he was so lucky to find someone who could love him. He was able to open up to her, tell her all about Sherlock… aside from the fact that he loved him but that was probably hidden in there somewhere. But she knew how torn up about his best mate’s loss he was. She comforted him and told him that it would get better.  
  
She told him about her life as a foster child, moving from place to place, terrible home to terrible home. She had a rough life growing up and never really made any friends. John thought it was lucky that she ended up as well adjusted as she was. Mary didn’t show any signs of what Sherlock said that John saw. There was no danger. She was safe and warm and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Life was quiet. Too quiet.  
  
Then Sherlock came back.  
  
Then he found out Mary wasn’t Mary. Mary was this bloody sharp shooting international killer. He couldn’t know for sure if she loved him. She was able to lie so well, maybe she was lying about her feelings for John.  
  
Now he knew that Mary not only lied about her past life but she was probably lying about their whole relationship. She knew about Sherlock and Moriarty but she acted liked the whole deal was new information to her when he was spilling his heart to her. On top of it, if she did know Sherlock was alive, she could have been things better. It could have been easier for him.  
  
Without details, it was easier to ignore Mary’s past but now he knew some things, it was going to be a monumental task to get on with their life together.  
  
About ten minutes before they arrived at Scotland Yard the first bomb was detonated at the Tate Modern.  
  
“They might want to check Piacsso’s _Nude, Green Leaves, and Bust_.” Sherlock instructed Mycroft before jumping out of the car then stuck his head back in, “It’s one of the most expensive paintings currently on public display and we know their predilection for works of art. It wouldn’t surprise me that when the dust settles that something will be missing and that will be it.”  
  
At least there was something to focus on other than the fact that his marriage was just one big fat lie and he was in love with someone he could have had years ago.  
  
John followed Sherlock into the bustling building of Scotland Yard with Mycroft and Mary trailing behind.  
  
In the elevator John figured he could do more than help Sherlock with research. There were probably people hurt, “Do they need any help over there? How many injured?”  
  
“No. You’re not leaving this building alone.” Sherlock shook his head.  
  
“I’m very experienced in trauma and injuries from explosives. I sort of served during a war.”  
  
“Yes, I forgot about your service because you never bring it up,” How was he in love with such a twat? “We have plenty surgeons in the city, John. Who knows if these people are after you. Your wife and best friend didn’t get on with their deceased ring leader.” Sherlock said.  
  
He clenched his jaw. Sherlock was not making his life any easier. It was his fault he had any idea about what was going on with Mary. If he just stayed away… no that wasn’t a good thought because after all this, he was probably going to be losing him again. Now that he knew that he loved him it’d be worse.  
  
“I’m so happy you both made the wrong people angry.” John huffed.  
  
Mary rubbed her very pregnant stomach, “To be fair, all of our lives were threatened at some point by someone in the Moriarty network -”  
  
John didn’t even have to say a word for Mary to stop talking, he had an excellent glare that was perfected when he lived with Sherlock before his fake suicide.  
  
“Let’s get these people quickly and end it because that crime empire pushed Sherlock off a roof, strapped me into an explosive vest, had snippers trained on my friends, lead Mary to live a life of lies, and now is blowing up my city.”  
  
“And then send me back to my exile.” Sherlock murmured, looking at his phone.  
  
John glowered. He didn’t want to think about that because he needed time with Sherlock to talk things out. What exactly was it he wanted to say? He had no clue, mainly because he had no idea how he was going to handle his future with Mary. Why did everything have to be so complicated?  
  
As soon as the doors opened Greg was there, wearing very casual attire. He was obviously enjoying his day off before Moriarty was on telly, “We’ve got another message from these people. Sherlock, you were right, the Picasso was stolen in the aftermath.”  
  
“Of course I was. What’s the new demand?” Sherlock said as they walked towards an empty room with a few laptops for them to work.  
  
“They want Holcomb to transfer his entire bank account into some off shore account within the hour.”  
  
Warren Holcomb was under investigation for tax evasion, causing a nice media shitstorm for the company. Outside of that, a few months back many, including Sherlock, suspected that he had murdered his wife who was found dead in their Knightsbridge flat of an apparent suicide. He was some big exec for HSBC and sounded like an all around deplorable person. John would not have been surprised to find out if the man owed these people an enormous amount of money.  
  
“Is he going to do it? You all also know that he killed his wife.” Sherlock informed Lestrade as he sat down and opened up the laptop in front of him.  
  
“No evidence, Sherlock. He is not giving any money to them.”  
  
“I hope you’re sweeping the headquarters for HSBC and his residence.” Sherlock sighed and his brother, who had been on his phone the entire time, made a noise of agreement. “Mycroft, I need you to bring all of my information I had on Moriarty and his people.”  
  
“It’s on it’s way here right now.” Mycroft and Mary sat down at the other computers.  
  
John stood by Greg, “Are you sure I’m not more helpful at the scene?”  
  
“Only a few injured, a couple critically but the most damage done was on the actual building. Thank god.”  
  
He nodded, “That’s good.”  
  
“Any information on who stole the painting?”  
  
“No, security cameras were cut right at the time of the explosion and there were no eye witnesses.”  
  
“Really? It’s a Saturday afternoon, peak time for the museum.”  
  
“They purloined it after the explosion and evacuation, John. I’m guessing someone disguised as security or a police officer.” Sherlock clicked away at his laptop. “Remember, we’re working with professionals here. You need to remember the level of criminal.”  
  
John chewed his lip and looked to Mary who was sitting with her back to him, typing a name into some database that John had never seen before.  
  
“Do you know anything about Moriarty’s family?” Sherlock questioned Mary.  
  
She shook her head, “Nothing. James Moriarty’s a fake name.”  
  
Sherlock agreed, “Mycroft? Anything you’re keeping from me on that area?”  
  
“My extensive background on the man couldn’t find anything from his life before he became Moriarty. The name he picked was seventeen at the time, I’m assuming that’s around the same age he was. I couldn’t find any reported deaths or disappearances that seemed strange at the time in Ireland when he became our dear old Jim.”  
  
“Because he was smart.” Sherlock frowned. “He never left a stone unturned but I have, we all have.”  
  
“So, we have to look for the stone.”  
  
“I need to talk to Irene Adler.” Sherlock picked up his phone again. “There might be something she knows.”  
  
“Ah, she’s dead.” John had told Sherlock the truth after sometime passed because he couldn’t take lying to Sherlock about Irene. He told hime even though there was a bit of jealousy. Sherlock and Irene could have got on well and things may have been good for the detective. Sherlock acted unaffected by her death so John figured he moved on quickly.  
  
“No, she’s not.” Sherlock glanced up at John. “I saved her.”  
  
Lying was what everyone in his life did, why would this topic be any different? “‘Course you did.”  
  
“I would apologize but -”  
  
“No, it’s fine.”  
  
“Honestly John, I thought the jealousy would dissipate once you were married.” The genius looked unimpressed with John’s emotions. Bastard.  
  
“Right, coffee anyone?”  
  
“I’ll come with you. I’ve got some other things to check on too.” Greg said as John was out the door before anyone answered.  
  
John felt like he needed to punch or shoot something soon or someone was going to get hurt..  
  
“You ok, mate?” Greg asked him while they stood at the vending machines.  
  
“No. Sherlock confessed that he’s bloody in love with me before he took off for his exile, now he’s back, and I found out even more about Mary. By the way, did you notice that madmen are trying to kill loads of innocent people?” John said in a harsh whisper as he put in his money.  
  
“So, not ok.”  
  
“No!” John pressed the button for coffee, with a bit more force than necessary.  
  
“So he just said he loved you?” The DI kept his voice low.  
  
“Said he was in love with me, always was, and did everything for me.” John watched the coffee drip into the cup.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“That I was married? I think that’s what I said. I don’t know, the whole thing was a blur. Then I shook his hand because I was freaking out and he got on the plane. I thought he wasn’t going to return again.”  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. He’s probably forgot about it because Moriarty is back. Not him but apparently close enough to suck Sherlock back into that world. What the fuck am I supposed to do? He’s going to be exiled again soon enough.” John picked up his cup and moved for Greg to get at the machine.  
  
“Do you want me to talk to Mike? The only people who know what he did is us, the team that was there, and whatever secret government board that decided it. Maybe something can be worked out.”  
  
John shook his head, “I’m sure they tried it before. Plus, do you think that we could actually have a go at a real relationship?”  
  
“You never know.”  
  
“And Mary…”  
  
“Your psychopathic wife who’s whole life is a cover.”  
  
“Sherlock’s a sociopath.”  
  
“He’s not, he pretends to be to keep people away. Meanwhile, Mary could be as cold as Sherlock fakes for real.” Greg looked pained to say that out loud.  
  
“What the bloody hell is my life?” John put his free hand over his eyes.  
  
“Sir, we need you.” Someone said from behind John as he dropped his hand.  
  
“On my way.” Greg told the man then turned his attention back to John. “All right?”  
  
“Go work, I should do the same.”  
  
“You’ll figure it out and it will work out.”  
  
John wasn’t sure about either of those points as he went back to the room.

**—3 Months Ago—**

John rolled over and looked at the clock, only six in the morning. Well, not only, that used to be usual for him but since he quit the surgery his life had been odd. He was back to solving crimes with Sherlock, every chance that they had. It was as if they were binging on cases. It was rather excellent.  
  
He yawned and shuffled his body back a bit because he was on the edge of the bed. Sherlock tended to sprawl in his sleep but to John’s surprise the other man was his side, with his semi-hard cock now mashed up against John’s arse.  
  
Yes, Sherlock was sleeping in John’s bed when he slept. Neither of them had much of a nightmare when they shared a bed with one another. They still had not had sex, even though there were many times John wanted it. Sherlock seemed to have interest in it but completely ignored John’s advances.  
  
“You’ve got the whole rest of the sodding bed.” John’s voice was hoarse with sleep.  
  
Sherlock groaned and wiggled his hips.  
  
“Hey.” John chuckled and swatted his hand back, hitting Sherlock in the head, mostly getting his curls.  “Are you up and being a git or torturing me in your sleep?”  
  
“How am I torturing you?” Sherlock’s voice rumbled as he rubbed his hand up John’s side.  
  
“By pushing your hard prick against me. You know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?”  
  
“You pushed your arse into my groin. And yes, I know exactly how long it’s been.”  
  
“You nearly pushed me off the bed in the middle of the night.”  
  
His fingers moved to the hem of John’s shirt before resting there, “You’re always very warm and plaint in the morning, it’s nice.”  
  
“Are you chatting me up or just trying to get out of the conversation about being a bed hog?” John moved his hips and Sherlock made a funny noise. “Did you like that?”  
  
“Mmm, are you sure?”  
  
“It’s not going to ruin things that aren’t already ruined.” He reached for the lube and a condom in the bed side table. He picked some up at the store, hopeful that Sherlock would finally break his iron will.  
  
“How do you want it?” The consulting detective’s hand was working it’s way down his pants as John tossed the lube and condom over his shoulder, probably landing behind Sherlock somewhere.  
  
“I don’t care, just get me off. I know it’s been awhile for us but I’m sure you remember every single thing I like, unless you deleted it.” He sighed as Sherlock wrapped his hand around him.  
  
“Mmm, ok.” Sherlock stroked John a few times before tugging off John’s bottoms then struggled out of his own. “Move over on to your back.”  
  
John did as asked as Sherlock stripped out of his shirt. He climbed on top of John, lining up their cocks. “This fine?”  
  
“Obviously, thought you’d want to fuck but this is just as good for me.” John grinned up at the man. The stupidly gorgeous and stupidly brilliant Sherlock Holmes was on top of him with his cock pressed to his, how could he not be grinning.  
  
God, he was in love with him and this was probably a terrible idea to enter into a sexual relationship with Sherlock again but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough. He had dealt with enough shite for the last few months that it just didn’t matter.  
  
“Ah, fuck that feels nice. I forgot what human contact was like. Are you not going to kiss me?” John put his hand on Sherlock’s neck as Sherlock rolled his hips, sending a little wave of pleasure over him.  
  
“The kissing is not too intimate?”  
  
“Intimate? If you didn’t want to risk that you'd have me on my stomach or hands and knees so you can’t look at me.” John thrust his pelvis up for more friction.  
  
He smirked then finally pressed his lips to John’s.  
  
Kissing Sherlock… John was sure he could have wrote a hundred page paper on kissing Sherlock. He was sure he could have started a religion over it, at the very least a fan club. The man knew what John wanted, just the right amount of tongue and teeth. Perfect.  
  
“I’m not sure if you like my kissing or the potential orgasm more.”  
  
“Both are pretty damn good.”  
  
After a few more minutes of grinding and snogging he grabbed the lube that was now next to his head to make things a bit easier. He went to go squirt some on to his palm before Sherlock took it.  
  
“Let me.” He held his palm out.  
  
“Be my guest.” John squeezed the tube, probably putting a bit too much in Sherlock’s hand for what they were doing but he didn’t really care.  
  
Sherlock reached between them, wrapping his fingers around John, slicking him up and then himself. He curled his hand around both of their cocks then stroked his hand up slowly with a slight twist of his wrist.  
  
John pressed his curled toes into Sherlock’s calves and grabbed two fantastic handfuls of his perfect arse as the other man sucked and nibbled at his bottom lip while jerking them off.  
  
He was unsure if it was the fact he hadn’t had someone else touch him or if Sherlock was just very talented but it didn’t seem like it took him very long to come, Sherlock following not far after.  
  
“Thank you.” John said after Sherlock collapsed next to him. “Thought that was never going to happen.”  
  
“You’re the one that’s married.”  
  
John felt a bit sick remembering that he had just cheated on his wife but quickly got over it, “I told you that I don’t care.”  
  
“Right now. You might soon, when you decide to go back to Mary.”  
  
“ _When_ I decide to go back to Mary?” John grabbed a few tissues from the bed side table.  
  
“You will, John. You just need to figure out if you’re going to do it before or after you look at what she gave you.”  
  
John cleaned himself up while thinking about the flash drive. He loved Mary and wanted to be with Mary because she wanted to be with him and loved him. Sherlock, no matter what John felt for him, would probably never return the sentiment because only idiots get sentimental and fall in love.  
  
He just needed to figure out if he could get over Mary’s past.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for Irene to call him. He hadn’t realized John’s reaction would have been complete jealousy when he mentioned needing to call her. He had seen it on him when he was pretending to be in a relationship with Janine but Irene hadn’t been in their life for ages.  
  
John hated Irene. She had pointed out to John that he was in love with Sherlock back during her case and John did not have the best reaction to it. After she left John didn’t touch him for a few weeks and made it a point to go on dates with intolerable women. John insisted it was because Sherlock had feelings for Irene but the only thing that interested him about The Woman was her brain. She was one of the few people that truly could spar with him intellectually.  
  
His feelings for John on the other hand were not just intellectually ( _on a different level than Irene but stimulating all the same_ ) but also sexually and emotionally. Before earlier in the day he could never get the words out to John, not that he told him all of his feelings but it was enough. At least it was at the time. For some reason he wanted to sit John down and tell him everything else. How his feelings for John consumed him. How what he felt for John was so uncharacteristic of him that it was terrifying. There wasn’t any time though.  
  
Sherlock needed to find a way to stay in London. He couldn’t leave John because the man seemed to be on the verge of leaving Mary. That probably wouldn’t last too long once she had their child though. John would probably go through life hating every moment of it with her. He was going to pretend things were fine while ignoring the fact that his relationship was built on a lie because that was what John Watson did. He got angry at Sherlock not talking about his feelings but John was as closed off as the consulting detective, he just did it in a way that didn’t make him appear so cold.  
  
“So, you saved her?” John asked Sherlock after Mary waddled off to use the loo and Mycroft left to take a phone call.  
  
“I saved you as well.” Sherlock pretended to be busy but he was waiting on his old files as well as the call. There wasn’t much more to send him in the right direction that he could access on the computer and he had already gone through his mind palace.  
  
“Honesty here, Sherlock, did… do you love her too?”  
  
“No, why would I?” He furrowed his brow.  
  
“I don’t know. I didn’t think you had feelings until now.” John bit his lip.  
  
“You knew I have feelings, don’t be daft. I believe you knew that I even had them for you.”  
  
“If you were staying -”  
  
“I’m not. We don’t have time to have this conversation.” He didn’t want to hear John’s what ifs because that would probably hurt far too much.  
  
“We’re never going to have time.” John shook his head.  
  
“No, we are not and maybe that’s for the best.”  
  
Lestrade came into the room, thankfully stopping any conversation.  
  
“They set a bomb off on the top floor of Barclay’s. There was a board meeting going on, the whole executive board is most likely deceased. On top of that, Holcomb was found dead in his office. Gunshot wound to the head, looks like suicide but I have a feeling that it was something else. All his money was drained form his account and seemingly disappeared.” The DI explained, looking tired of the whole situation. Too bad it had only just started.  
  
“I want to see Holcomb’s body at the crime scene.” Sherlock shut the lid of his laptop.  
  
“Why Barclay’s? I thought he was with HSBC?” John questioned, extremely confused.  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “I’m not sure yet, probably something to do with the economy or they’re just trying to confuse me. Have we received any more contact from them?”  
  
“Not yet.” Lestrade said as Sherlock’s phone rang.  
  
“Irene. I’m going to see if I can extract anything useful from her and then we’re going to Holcomb’s office.”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
Sherlock answered the phone, putting it on speaker, “Irene.”  
  
“Hello darling, miss me?”  
  
“No, I need you to answer some questions -”  
  
“Sir shags-a-lot? How did John feel about you shagging that woman. She -”  
  
“Irene -”  
  
“Is our little soldier boy still pretending to be straight? Is he really married to the boring -”  
  
“Irene! Do shut up.”  
  
“Fine, fine, what is it? I assume it has something to do with Moriarty broadcasting on TV screens across the country.” She sounded bored of the whole thing. “I know nothing about it.”  
  
“I need to know if I’ve missed any of his connections.”  
  
“I’m sure you missed many, love.”  
  
“Any who would do this? Anyone important?”  
  
“He had a right hand guy, Moran. I forget his first name but I know Jim mentioned him a few times to me.” Mary and Mycroft came back in as Irene explained.  
  
“How did I not know about that?” Sherlock frowned ( _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ ).  
  
“Jim was good at keeping secrets, as you know. The biggest one, he was adopted.”  
  
“What’s his real name?”  
  
“That, I do not know. My session with the associate who disclosed this ended fairly quickly, I couldn’t get too much out of him.”  
  
“What’s the associate’s name?”  
  
“Jamie Milverton.”  
  
“He was in Moriarty’s closest circle… well the one that I could identify. I killed him in Columbia when he was dealing with that cartel. He didn’t give me anything to go on. Why didn’t you tell me any of this information before?”  
  
“You never asked me.”  
  
“Yes I did.” He growled. He forgot how infuriating Irene could be.  
  
“Oh, must have slipped my mind then.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Is there any thing else that I need to know about?”  
  
“No, I promise. Have a lovely day, call me soon. I would love to get together.” The line disconnected and Sherlock slammed his hand on the table in frustration.  
  
“John and I are going to the Holcomb crime scene. Mycroft, I need you and your people, brother, to look into Jamie Milverton, anything you can find. You as well Mary. Hopefully something that will lead to Moriarty’s adoptive family.” Sherlock stood up, grabbing his coat.  
  
“Your files are on their way up now.” Mycroft informed him.  
  
“I’ll be back to look at them. Come along, John. Lestrade, we’ll meet you there.”  
  
“Right behind you.”  
  
Sherlock took the lift with the two other men and they thankfully stayed silent the entire time.  
  
Sadly the silence stopped when John and Sherlock we nearly to Holcomb’s office in their cab, “I… ah I want to know -”  
  
“John, stop.”  
  
“I just need to know!” He snarled. “I need to talk about this.”  
  
“I’ve said what I needed to say.”  
  
“If you weren’t leaving and if I left Mary, would we be together? What would happen?”  
  
“Nothing because neither of us would have said a thing if I was not pressured to do so by my impending departure.” Sherlock paused. “Does that mean you feel the same?”  
  
“Just answer the question, Sherlock, I’m sure you’ve deduced it.”  
  
He knew John loved him the same way Sherlock loved him, but for some reason he thought it would be nice to hear. It was foolish because it’s not as if it would have made any difference.  
  
“Would we? If I did… feel that way… what would happen with us?”  
  
Sherlock took a deep breath and gazed out the window so he didn’t have to look at John. “You’re asking me what would happen. Would we move in together, obviously. Officially, just the one room, leaving the downstairs empty because you like your bed and Mrs. Hudson can’t hear us shagging up there. Maybe I’ll turn that into a lab. We’d need to put proper ventilation in there if we did but I’m sure you wouldn’t mind the project if you can keep your kitchen clean.  
  
“Of course we would still work together all the while you would work at the A&E, that one my brother mentioned because the hours would fit right for us. You’d continue blogging about our adventures and maybe eventually you’d get a book deal. We’d become more famous and it would be even more annoying to go about my everyday life but I would find a way to deal with it, I am a master of disguise.  
  
“You’ll be friends with Mary and have joint custody of the child. Even though she’s an international killer, she’d be the main care giver because you don’t think our lifestyle is conducive with raising a child. Which is crazy because she’s a spy and we’d probably argue about that point, not that I want to worry about a child in our home but I’m right.  
  
“We would still have rows over everything because we’re very good at shouting at one another. It’s almost a bit of foreplay now that I think about it.  
  
“You would worry about when I fall into black moods because maybe I’m back on drugs. But I would never go back to drugs because you would be there. You’re a very good deterrent for me, you give me those things I look for in heroin and morphine and every other drug I’ve ever consumed, naturally. It’s odd.  
  
“We’d order takeaway or you’d cook for me. You would make me watch horrendous movies and telly. We’d have regular sex. You’d make tea, all the time, and shout at me about the mugs being filthy. You’d nag me about everything like you already do. One day we’d get old, too old to run around and we’d move to Sussex. I’d raise bees and you’d continue writing. I’m sure one day we’d die, obviously, but until that point we would have been happy.  
  
“But none of that is going to happen because after this all, if I’m not killed here, I’m going to be killed on my exiled. You’ll stay here and play house with Mary. You’re going to work odd hours at the A&E and avoid Mary. When you are together you’ll probably be constantly having domestics because you’ll be terribly bored and you will also be constantly worrying about her lies. You’re loyalty to vows will make you stay, like it is now, but she’ll get fed up with it. Maybe she gets bored and leaves you in the middle of the night to care for your child. Maybe she leaves with the child. If she does stay you’ll both be miserable the rest of your life. If she leaves you’ll either live alone or you’ll find a boring woman to eventually live out your old years with.”  
  
John stayed silent but Sherlock felt his hand grope for his and soon their fingers were interlocked together. The doctor’s hand squeezed tight, as if he didn’t want to let go of Sherlock. He was honestly surprised about the reaction because the last bit was rather harsh. It was the truth though and John was smart enough to see that it was.  
  
He cleared his throat because, for some reason, he had a lump as if he were about to cry, “You’re unhappy with her now. I thought you could stay with her and be happy but you’re not. You may have been before but now the illusion seems to have completely shattered and left you unable to pick up the pieces. I don’t want to tell you what to do but I don’t think that you can go on as you are with her. I made a mistake at urging you both back together and I regret that now because you’re very upset. You’re going to have a break down.”  
  
“I -”  
  
“Please, don’t say a word.” Sherlock shook his head, still not looking to John. “We’re here.”  
  
“Right, ok. Let’s, ah, let’s do this then.” John sounded as if he was crying. One look to him confirmed that he was.  
  
His eyes were red and cheeks wet. John rubbed his hand over his eyes before Sherlock dug out his handkerchief and handed it to him.  
  
After a moment they paid the driver then stepped out of the cab to see Lestrade waiting for them.  
  
“You all right there, mate?” The DI asked John.  
  
“Yes, I’m fine.” John tucked the handkerchief in his pocket. “Allergies.”  
  
“In January?”  
  
John shrugged.  
  
Sherlock let out an exasperated noise, “If you’re both done, I’d like to get to the work at hand. It’s rather important.”  
  
“Right, yeah.”  
  
The three walked into the building and as the waited for the lift Lestrade’s phone beeped, “Got another one.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, “What does it say?”  
  
“Edward Gibson will publicly step down as editor in chief of The Guardian in thirty minutes, signed JM again.”  
  
Sherlock furrowed his brow as they stepped on the the lift, thinking about what he knew of Gibson. Nothing of note came to mind.  
  
John spoke up, “He published that op-ed on the IRA plot to blow up Buckingham Palace, saying that it was just done to cause trouble again in Northern Ireland.”  
  
“Maybe it wasn’t an IRA plot.” Lestrade said.  
  
“Or maybe he’s too close to uncovering something that he shouldn’t.” Sherlock thought aloud.

**—2 Months Ago—**

“Fuck, yes, right there.” Sherlock rolled his head back as John thrust his hips up again, digging his fingers into Sherlock’s hips ( _that will leave some nice bruises_ ).  
  
“I love it when you swear.” John swiped his tongue over his bottom lip.  
  
Sherlock laughed, “I know, that’s why I do it when we’re fucking, it gets you going. Something about my posh accent being rude drives your right round the bloody twist. Now fuck me with your thick cock like you mean it.”  
  
“Ah, Christ.” John groaned loudly. “Touch yourself, not going to last much longer.”  
  
He listened, wrapping his hand around himself as his met John’s thrusts.  
  
A few moments later Sherlock was seeing white and making noises that he did not mean to make but they just sort of came out of him.  
  
When he came back to full realization of his body his was still straddling John, just doubled over an panting.  
  
“Might want to move and don’t forget to mind the condom.” John patted his thigh.  
  
“Mmm, yeah.” Sherlock moved off of John and collapsed next to him on the bed.  
  
“That was brilliant.”  
  
“What was, the shag or the shootout or the case?” He yawned.  
  
“All of the above.”  
  
“You’re brilliant too.” John rolled over and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s nose.  
  
“Of course I am.” Sherlock practically preened, like he normally did over John’s praise.  
  
“You’re an egotistical bastard know-it-all.”  
  
“I know that as well.”  
  
“But I enjoy it for some reason.”  
  
“You’re a very complex and strange man.”  
  
“I am.” John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. They were too intimate for just friends but Sherlock didn’t dare say a word. “I’m going to run to the loo then get something to drink. Do you need anything?”  
  
“No.” He moved on to his side as John stood up.  
  
“Good because I was just being polite.” The doctor left the room.  
  
Sherlock wondered how much longer it would before John chose to go back to Mary. They had gone for coffee the other day to chat and he came back tense but thoughtful. Everyday John seemed to be getting closer to returning to Mary without looking at the drive. He needed to know if it was okay for John to return to Mary without seeing what was on there but John wouldn’t allow him to look at the drive. He could go right for the root…

*******

The next day Sherlock waited outside the surgery for Mary. He figured that he needed to confront her about her past, without getting too much out of her. It was the only way he could feel okay with John going back to her.  
  
“Sherlock? What are you doing here? Is John all right?” She pulled on her gloves, stopping in front of him.  
  
“He’s fine. I believe he’s going to take you back.”  
  
He couldn’t read her, he didn’t like that, “He is?”  
  
“Do you want that? Really?”  
  
“I love John, I want to be with him.” They started walking towards her flat.  
  
“What’s your real accent sound like? I know you’re from The States, New Jersey.”  
  
“I’m not going to give you a listen because I don’t want you to know something that John hasn’t heard.”  
  
“Fair enough. What you did, for John to hate you, how unforgivable is it?”  
  
She shrugged, “I wasn’t a very good person.”  
  
“Did you hurt any of John’s family or friends?”  
  
“None that I know of.”  
  
“Did you hurt John? Have you cheated on him?”  
  
“If I have hurt him, it wasn’t on purpose. I did cheat on him though. Are you going to tell him?” She was still impassive.  
  
“He’s cheated on you.”  
  
“With you. That’s completely unsurprising.” Mary laughed. “I’m surprised that it had not happened before he found out.”  
  
“If he goes back to you, will you hurt him?”  
  
“No. Not on purpose, I’d do anything to protect John.”  
  
“I would as well.”  
  
“You love him?”  
  
He felt his lips pull tight, “No.”  
  
“Remember, Sherlock, I know when you’re fibbing.”  
  
“I care about him, as a best mate would.”  
  
“You’re lying, again, you are in love with him. I know you’ll never say it and he’ll probably never say the same thing to you. If I never came along and you never pretend to die you would have continued shagging and pretending it was only friends with benefits until one day you were old and you realized you had spent your life together. You’re both stubborn and impossible with your feelings.”  
  
Sherlock tried to keep the pain that was twisted in his chest off of his face. He did love John but he didn’t deserve him. “He wants to come back to you.”  
  
“When he can have you,” She shook her head. “You two are happy.”  
  
“He married Mary Morstan because he loved her and she treated him right. If you’re willing to be Mary the rest of your life then John will be happy.”  
  
“Will you be?”  
  
“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”  
  
She shook her head, “I love John, I do. If you think he’s happier with me then I would love to have him back in my life but if we’re both living a lie then that’d be somewhat ridiculous.”  
  
“He wants you back and he wants to raise the child with you. You’re stable with only a hint of danger.”  
  
“I hope that the child is not the only reason.”  
  
Sherlock reached for his cigarettes, “Mary is a good person and John is a good person. They love each other.” He hoped that he read the love in her eyes as the truth, not just a fantastic cover. “They were made for each other.” He just hoped that Anna didn’t mold Mary just to get John. “I have to go now.”  
  
“One second,” She touched his arm before he could walk away and light the cigarette, “I’m assuming he hasn’t looked yet?”  
  
“No. I did, only a bit and he got angry. He loves you, don’t hurt him.”  
  
Mary just nodded as Sherlock finally took off in the opposite direction, breathing in a lung full of  smoke.


	6. Chapter 6

Fucking Sherlock had told John everything that he ever wanted to hear and it was worse than him just saying he was in love with him. John wanted the rest of his life to be like what Sherlock had described. He dreamt of having that life for years. Sherlock offered enough domestic bliss and more than enough ridiculous danger. He was perfect and he losing him. He had lost him years ago and let him go. Even when he could have had him back he was too busy sulking about Mary. He could have had every thing he ever wanted and he fucked it up because he was fantastic at fucking things up.  
  
Thanks to that little monologue, he was crying in the back of the cab because his life was a sodding mess. He was going to see the love of his life off again to his death soon enough. John didn’t want to deal with Sherlock dying anymore but he was going to because he protected Mary. John didn’t even want Mary protected now, maybe he should have just let Magnussen ruin her life. At least he’d have someone to go home to. His life was now pointing in a direction of loneliness. The whole thing made him want to throw up.  
  
Sherlock offered him handkerchief and for some reason that made everything worse and his eyes welled even more. The stupid thing even smelled like Sherlock.  
  
John took a few minutes as the cab idled. Sherlock sat with him, holding his hand in silence. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this. He didn’t even cry when Sherlock jumped off the roof in front of him. His eyes welled up but he didn’t have a full on sob, even at the fake funeral. No, he was silent and stoic. He needed to go back to that but he wasn’t sure he hand any energy left to do so.  
  
Eventually got himself together enough to face other people. He was already embarrassed enough the driver and Sherlock had to witness the little break down.  
  
When they met Lestrade on the curb he blamed his red eyes and sniffles on allergies but the DI wasn’t as stupid as Sherlock let everyone think.  
  
“What happened in the cab?” Greg asked so quietly that John had to lean in to hear him as Sherlock moved through the crime scene.  
  
“Oh, Sherlock mapped out the rest of our lives together. The future that will never happen.” John felt his eyes welling again. He absolutely hated crying but he didn’t know what else to do because punching Sherlock and Mary was very very very wrong. He needed someone to shoot at him or attack him.  
  
“Jesus Christ, mate, I’m so sorry.” He clapped him on his shoulder.  
  
John took a deep breath, “I don’t know how to deal with this stuff. How can I deal with him and her? I can’t even…”  
  
“John!” Sherlock called from over the body. “Come take a look.”  
  
“Right, ah, ok.” John’s eyes moved over Sherlock’s long back. He was leaning over Warren Holcomb, who was face down on his desk with a gun in his hand.  
  
“You look like shite, John. Maybe you should go home.” Greg frowned.  
  
“No, this is the only thing that is keeping me from going completely insane.” John walked over to the body.  
  
Holcomb looked like his photos, minus the fact that he had a gunshot wound to his temple. He was rather heavy and balding with dyed black hair and a round face. He looked like the type of man that was screwing people over.   
  
It appeared like suicide to John but Sherlock clearly saw something or he wouldn’t be calling John over. “I don’t see anything strange.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“Exactly?” John looked over the body again.  
  
“This was a suicide, contrary to Lestrade’s feelings. He checked his bank account then shot himself.” Sherlock hit a button on Holcomb’s keyboard, lighting up the screen. It showed his zero bank balance. “Money was the only thing that mattered to this man. They took it, he killed himself, and they killed a few other people. I need to get back to Scotland Yard to work on research.”  
  
“I’m going to hang back with Greg here.” John said as Sherlock started to walk away.  
  
“Why?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Because I can’t be in the same room with you and Mary, ok?” He said in a hushed tone.  
  
“Ok, but do not leave with anyone that you do not know.”  
  
“You worry about me too much. I’m not an idiot.”  
  
Sherlock just nodded before leaving the room.  
  
“I just have to make sure everything going ok here then we can take off.” Greg explained to him. “Why don’t you go wait in the lobby?”  
  
John listened to Greg and took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs. He picked up a magazine on banking but just stared at the cover image without actually seeing it.  
  
For Sherlock to say those things to him, it must have took a lot. He was never good with his emotions or saying things that really meant something. It was probably scary for him because John could have rejected him or chinned him.  
  
Before he knew it Greg was coming out to the lobby to retrieve him to go back to Scotland Yard.  
  
“So, ah, anything interesting about the case?”  
  
Greg shook his head as he pulled away from HSBC headquarters, “We’ve got nothing. I feel like we’re at the mercy of these people. How is it possible for this network to have so much power and Sherlock or Mike to not know about it?”  
  
“They can’t know about everything. I’m sure they try their hardest.” John snorted.  
  
There was a long pause the DI glanced over at him, “You look like utter shite.”  
  
“I feel like utter shite.” John let out a long, pained sigh. “I hate crying.”  
  
“Sometimes it’s the only thing to do.”  
  
“I feel like I have zero control over the entire situation.”  
  
“You have control to leave Mary.”  
  
John felt something twist in his gut. He didn’t want to be alone because he remembered what his life was like without Mary and Sherlock. He couldn’t go back to it being so grey and empty.  
  
“You need to do what’s best for you.”  
  
“I don’t have any options to do what’s best.”  
  
“Sherlock.” Greg said. “He’s your best option?”  
  
“Probably but we both bungled that. Not to mention he can be a right twat and it’s his fault that he’s being exiled.”  
  
“I wouldn’t call it his fault.”  
  
“He shot someone.”  
  
“To save you. To be fair, he’s shot multiple people and you’ve shot multiple people to save him.” Greg said.  
  
“But Magnussen was unarmed. He was just a massive dick.” John gnawed on his lip as he thought about that night. “He did it for Mary.”  
  
“No, he did it for you because he swore he would protect you and Mary was important to you so he needed to protect her and that unborn kid. He still feels that way.”  
  
Of course John knew all that but it would have been easy for him to live that lie a little to make him feel better.  
  
“Fucking child. She’s having my fucking child.” John rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t leave Mary with the kid.”  
  
“You can’t bring it up in an unhealthy environment, mate.”  
  
“I know.” John banged his head against the cool window, “I almost don’t want this case to be over.”  
  
Greg nodded, “When it’s over -”  
  
“I’m going to have to make some choices that I don’t want to make and I’m going to have to deal with things that I do not want to deal with.”  
  
“I know but you’re going to have to do it eventually.”  
  
John just groaned in response.  
  
Eventually they made it back to Scotland Yard where Sherlock, Mary, and Mycroft were buried in files. Sherlock was tacking things up to the wall. It looked like things to do with the crimes that the network had carried out.  
  
“Bomb went off at The Guardian.” Greg looked down at his phone. He seemed as if he wanted the whole day to be over with. “Don’t know how many hurt or the total damage. I need to go to a briefing, I’ll be back in a bit to hear what you’ve got. I’ll give you anything I learn too.”  
  
“Have.” Sherlock corrected off handily, glaring at the wall as Greg left. “He won’t find out any thing.”  
  
“Uh, have any of you found any thing interesting?” John looked to Mycroft because he was safe to look at. Just looking at Mary or Sherlock sent John into a state of distress and panic.  
  
“No.” Sherlock snapped. “I’m trying to find connections between these companies and people who have been targeted. If I find the connection then we find the network, obviously.” Sherlock posted up the article John had told him about next to a photo of Edward Gibson. “Gibson did write about Holcomb a number of times but what journalist hasn’t? Where the Picasso fits into this as well…” He trailed off before starting to pace. “I have a feeling there are none outside of the fact that Moriarty’s old network has something to do with them all. They wanted the painting for money. Maybe Holcomb was wrapped up in something with them, possibly owed them a large sum of money. Maybe Gibson got too close to uncovering something, we know they like their anonymity. I need to read Gibson’s old articles.”  
  
“I’m sure they’re all archived online.” John sat down at one of the laptops. “I’ll pull them up.”  
  
The consulting detective gave a slight nod.  
  
“They want us to release another person from custody.” Mycroft said, taping at his phone. “Philip O’Connor.”  
  
“IRA?” John asked and Mycroft nodded. “So they like Ireland and Eastern Europe?”  
  
“They like anywhere that has corruption, guns, money, and drugs. That’s nearly everywhere.” Sherlock waved his hand about.  
  
“They didn’t give us a time limit on this one.” Mycroft shook his head.  
  
“They’re going to make us wait and wonder.” Sherlock scrubbed his hands through his hair as he continued the pacing. “Terrorist terrorize, that’s kind of their thing, isn’t it?”  
  
A few minutes later, Mary made a bit of a sound that was like a surprised squeak, “I think I may have found something.” She looked over the top of the laptop with a grin.

**—1 Month Ago—**

John ran his finger down Sherlock’s spine lightly before brushing his lips over his shoulder It was rare for John to wake up before Sherlock, when it did happen it was normally after a case. He always loved when it happened because it was quiet and comfortable. He did love the whirlwind of Sherlock Holmes but the calm was also nice.  
  
“Mmmmmorning.” Sherlock said around a yawn.  
  
“I should get up.” John smiled at him.  
  
Sherlock’s hair was sticking up all over the place and he looked sleepy. John just wanted to curl up with him and have a nice lie-in but he did have things that he needed to accomplish today.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Shower, breakfast, blog, and then I’m going to lunch with Mary and she’s going to the doctor’s.”  
  
“Ah, I see.”  
  
John rubbed his foot on Sherlock’s calf, “Sherlock, do you want me here?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I?” He furrowed his brow.  
  
“I mean,” John searched for his words, “Like this?” That really didn’t explain anything because what was ‘this’? Friends with benefits? Partners in more than the working sense? Who bloody knew because they never talked about it.  
  
“I want you to be happy, you’ll be happy with Mary. She is everything that you want.” Sherlock rolled on to his back.  
  
“You know what I want?”  
  
“You want a wife and a child. You want to work at the surgery and help me on cases in your spare time for your fix of danger. You want to have someone who loves you and cares about you, completely.”  
  
“What do you want?” This was the closest thing to actually talking about them they had ever got.  
  
“I want you to realize what you want because it’s been months and Mary is about to have your son or daughter. Other than that, I’m not sure why you care what I want.”  
  
“I care because… I care because you’re my best mate.” John wished he could have told him how he really felt at that moment but it was too much. Sherlock was better off at being his friend. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if they had to deal with feelings. They were both shite at it.  
  
“Right, that matters.”  
  
“Unlike you, I don’t disappear for two years without asking how it would effect my best mate.” That was unfair, he knew it was before it even came out of his mouth.  
  
Sherlock frowned before leaning over the edge of the bed to grab his pants, “I should get going as well. There’s things I need to handle, some loose ends from the case.”  
  
“I’m sorry, that…”  
  
“No, no, you’re right. I don’t think about you. Why should I though?” He struggled into his pants  before standing up.  
  
“You’re just being a dick now because I was being a dick.”  
  
“You’re not being a dick, you’re being truthful.”  
  
“I’m not! I’m an arsehole and so are you!” John shouted.  
  
“Tell Mary that I said hello. I’ll be out the rest of the day.” Sherlock said calmly but John could see how angry he was, he mask wasn’t completely on.

*******

John sat in the chair by Mary’s head as they waited for her obstetrician. They hadn’t talked about much over lunch, just how she was doing and what John was getting up to. Things were getting better with Mary. He was far less angry than he was months ago and he was beginning to miss her.  
  
“Do you want me back?” He asked abruptly.  
  
“Of course I do.”  
  
“This isn’t your cover talking, that’s really you, right?”  
  
“Yes, it’s me. I miss you, a lot.” She said, completely sincere. “But I only want you to come back if you really want to be with me.”  
  
He nodded, “I’m sorry it’s taking so long.”  
  
“Well, the whole thing was more than a bit of a shock.” She chuckled. “Not everyday you find out your wife was a spy.”  
  
“Who shot your best mate.”  
  
“I really am sorry about that. I just thought it would take care of things for a little, until I could figure out a way to tell you.”  
  
“He’s fine with it so I guess it’s ok.” John said as Dr. Bradford knocked on the door before entering.  
  
“Oh, John, glad you could come in today.” She grinned.  
  
They went through the normal check up and eventually did a scan, “Do you want to know the sex? I know Mary’s said no because you haven’t been able to make it but you’re here today.” She looked the the screen.  
  
Mary looked to John, “Do we?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve had enough surprises recently, I think.”  
  
She laughed, “Yeah, let’s find out.”  
  
“Looks like you’re having a girl.”  
  
John could feeling himself grinning from ear to ear. For a long time he never thought about having a child but when Sherlock revealed it to them at their wedding he was over the moon. He hated that he missed nearly all of Mary’s pregnancy. He did want that normal family and he could have it with her. He was starting to become fairly sure that he was going to be able to move back in with her.  
  
“Wow, that’s wow.”  
  
“Would you like some prints?”  
  
“Yeah, please.” John grinned and grabbed Mary’s hand.  
  
He could do it.  
  
When he went back to Baker Street Sherlock was lounging on the couch, “Thought you’d be out all day.” He shrugged off his coat.  
  
“It took less time than I thought.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“What are you doing for Christmas?”  
  
“Ah, haven’t thought about it.”  
  
“My mother wants to know if you and Mary would like to join us. I would plead for you both to do so in order for me to not suffer through the whole thing alnoe. It might be a good time to make up too.”  
  
“Yeah, ah, ok.” He said as he went to the kitchen.  
  
“Bring your gun too.”  
  
John stopped in his tracks, “What are you on about?”  
  
“I might need to take care of some business, take your gun.”  
  
“On Christmas?”  
  
“Must I repeat myself?”  
  
John shook his head, “No. I just don’t understand what you’re going to be doing on Christmas.”  
  
“It’s Magnussen, I’ll explain it more once I hash out the whole thing.”  
  
He figured it was best to not get into that because Sherlock was the mastermind with that type of thing. It would not be the first time John would go into something blindly with the other man. “Right. About this morning -”  
  
“It’s fine. I think we should stop sleeping together. I don’t want to hurt your relationship with Mary any longer.”  
  
He scratched his head, “Ah, all right. I’m still sorry about this morning. I didn’t want to be an arse, I’m just made that way apparently.”  
  
“I told you John, it’s fine. I don’t think we need to have any more discussion about it. Now, would you like to have take away tonight? I was thinking curry.”  
  
John nodded, “I’ll call when it’s time for dinner. Your usual?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Well, that was that then, apparently. John decided that he would take the couple of weeks he had to figure out what he wanted to say to Mary about their future together.


	7. Chapter 7

The consulting detective paced in front of his wall. He needed more data, there was not near enough information for him to go off of. How was he supposed to solve this?  
  
“I think I may have found something.” Mary broke his thoughts.  
  
Sherlock turned around to see Mary excitedly looking at her husband. He felt jealously curling in the pit of his stomach because he could see that she was hoping to impress John. Sherlock was the one who did that, not Mary ( _Shut up, you’re an idiot! They’re married. John isn’t yours to impress. Not that they are going to last much longer. Hopefully John is not dumb enough to hurt himself any longer with with her. That was a grave miscalculation, thinking John would be happier with her and her lies._ )  
  
“What is it?” Sherlock stalked over to her and leaned to get a better view of the screen.  
  
“So, Milverton didn’t change his name. You would think someone working with a criminal mastermind would. Well, Jamie was adopted with another boy and girl, a Christopher and a Frances. Christopher died when he was seventeen.” She explained to the room.  
  
“You think Christopher is Moriarty because he died at seventeen. You said that the real one died then.” John, always stating the obvious.  
  
“Yes and maybe it’s the sister who’s behind all of this.” Mary pointed to Sherlock’s wall.  
  
“John, I need you to look into Gibson’s articles. Mary, look into O’Connor’s connections, and I’ll try to see what I can find about this family.”  
  
Sherlock hunkered down started his search on Milverton and his siblings. What he found wasn’t exactly everything but it gave him some type of direction. If he worked long enough then he would be able to find this mysterious woman and hopefully solve everything.  
  
“Sherlock,” John’s voice sounded a bit far away. “Sherlock.” Sherlock looked up to see him sitting next to him. “I found an article Gibson did on O’Connor but it’s nothing that hasn’t been said about the IRA before.”  
  
He must have been at it for quite some time because it was dark out and people were eating dinner when he finally looked up from the computer.  
  
“What do you have Sherlock?” Mary asked. “Because I have nothing.”  
  
“Mary is right, Christopher is Jim. One of his mugshots matches what the man would have looked like, he had a bit of plastic surgery but it’s definitely him.” Sherlock sighed.  
  
“Is there more?”  
  
“Obvously, the Milverton kids were adopted by Albert and Marie Milverton in January 1981 from an orphanage in the fair city of Dublin. They lived in a village outside of Dublin, where they took the children. Christopher was five, Jamie was four, and Frances was two. Both Albert and Marie were doctors. They seemed to have been well liked in the community.”  
  
“How do you know they were?” Mary asked.  
  
“I’ll get to that in a moment.”  
  
“Get on with it then.” John folded his arms.  
  
“Christopher and Jamie seemed to get up to quite a bit of trouble as the years wore on. Petty things like stealing and destruction of property. There’s mention in one of Christopher’s arrest report about a gang. Little criminals.  
  
“In August 1993 Christopher and Frances disappeared and four months later, what was thought to be their remains, were found in Glasgow. They were badly burned but there were apparently able to identify them by dental records and a broken bone in Frances’ leg. No one was ever arrested and there were never any leads. Obviously Jim was able to fake it even back then.  
  
“Jamie stayed with his parents, until they were both murdered in June of 1994. I found they were liked and respected by the community in the articles about the murder. Apparently is was grisly, they were chopped to pieces.   
  
“Jamie was cleared of the murder but it wouldn’t surprise me if he and Jim had a hand in the whole thing. After the investigation he fell off the map, probably reunited with his sister and brother.”  
  
“So this family was a bunch a fucking psychos.” John shook his head. “Were they related?”  
  
“They all shared the same mother. Their real mother had been imprisoned for killing Frances’ father.”  
  
“Shit.” Lestrade said.  
  
“Are there any pictures of Frances?”  
  
“Nothing. I looked into the real Jim Moriarty, hoping he had a sister that also passed at the same time as him but nothing. If she still is alive she and Jim did a very good job of hiding this.”  
  
“I can call over to Dublin and Glasgow, see if they have any of the evidence or records of either of those murders. I don’t know if it will help you much but it’s the best that I can do.” He said.  
  
“I’ll get in touch with Family Services to see what I can gather about their original parents and if there any photos of Frances.” Mycroft followed Greg out of the room.  
  
“I need to go home.” Mary rubbed her stomach. “I need to get to a bed, my back is killing me.”  
  
“I want you to have one of Mycroft’s minions looking after you tonight. I don’t trust these people.”  
  
“You really think that they’re after us?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t they be, we took down most of Jim’s original web.”  
  
Mary frowned, “I’ll go see if I can find Mycroft. I’ll stop back in before I leave.” She leaned over and kissed John on the cheek, who gave her a tense nod.  
  
She left them alone, again.  
  
Sherlock rubbed his eyes, too much time looking at a computer screen.  
  
“You need to eat something.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Sherlock, eat the rest of these.” He pushed a container of chips at him. “I’ll get you some tea too.”  
  
“Coffee.”  
  
“Ok, I can do that.” John closed the lid of this laptop.  
  
“Are you, ah, feeling better?” He figured he needed to ask, it was polite and he was curious. John was not doing well when he had left HSBC earlier.  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
“Probably not.”  
  
“You’d be right.”  
  
“I -”  
  
“I can’t take anything else, Sherlock, you don’t have to say anything else. Please don’t. Not right now, at least. We’ve got a job to do, right?”  
  
“Right. But after that.”  
  
John’s clenched and unclenched his fists on the table, “There’s nothing we can do about that.”  
  
“Maybe I can fix it with Mary, tell me how.”  
  
John scoffed, “There’s nothing you can do to fix that whole thing.”  
 Sherlock perked up, “I could fake our deaths. I’ve done it before, we could run away.”  
  
“Let’s not. Unlike you I have friends that I want to see again. Also, you don’t get to dictate my entire life because I feel like that’s all you’ve been doing lately.”  
  
“Ok.” Sherlock said softly ( _Maybe he doesn’t love me as much as I love him and why does he seem angry with me?_ ).  
  
John cleared his throat before stand up. “I’ll get you that coffee.”  
  
Before John could leave Sherlock realized he had no idea what happened with O’Connor, “Did they blow anything else up?”  
  
“Not yet. I feel like they’re going to make us wait it out all night, make us tired.” John held on to the door frame. “Or do it in the middle of the night, when more people are sleeping. If I were Mycroft I’d have people looking at hotels and blocks of flats.”  
  
Sherlock nodded and then went back to work. Maybe he could stop the next attack before it happened.  
  
John came back twenty minutes later. He placed the coffee next to Sherlock’s left hand, “Here.”  
  
“What took you so long?” He mumbled.  
  
“I was talking to Mycroft, he made arrangements to get Mary home and make sure she’s safe. You didn’t eat any of the chips.”  
  
“Did you count them before you left?”  
  
“Don’t be a smartarse.” John sat back down and yawned.  
  
“Maybe you should go home with Mary.”  
  
“Yeah, like I’m going to miss my last night of working on a case with you.” John gave him a forced smile. “So, you think it’s Frances that’s blowing up London?”  
  
“Yes, it’s a great possibility. Why does it surprise you that it’s a woman?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I could see it on your face when I first alluded to it. You were surprised, why? Women kill and women terrorize. Yes, men are normally the killers and the terrorist but it’s a bit… misogynistic to think that women aren’t capable of these things. There are plenty of women in the army, in law enforcement, women who work as spies, who kill and do not hesitate to kill to protect. There are women in gangs. There are women serial killers. There are women in terrorist organizations. There’s Mary and Irene, for two examples. If you’d like a list of women who have -”  
  
“No, no, I get it. I know there are women in law enforcement and stuff but, I don’t know, I guess it’s just something that’s engrained in you that the terrorist are men.”  
  
“And, most recently, normally men of Middle Eastern descent but you and I know how wrong that is.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Sherlock reached for a cold chip and he could see John smile out of the corner of his eye, “Shut up.”  
  
“I didn’t say anything.” John sat back, “What do you want me to do now?”  
  
“The medical reports on all the murders.” Sherlock stood up to hack into the databases for him.  
  
Hours later, not much more was known about Frances. John was curled up on the floor, having a kip, while Sherlock was stretched out, looking at the PDFs Mycroft found on the adoptions and various investigations. He shut his laptop in angry and closed his eyes tight, trying not to be too frustrated.  
  
When he opened his eyes he looked down at John. Medical school and army training taught him to sleep anywhere. Sherlock looked at the time and realized he needed to wake him up soon so he wouldn’t be too groggy for the rest of the day.  
  
He wished that John would have jumped at the chance to run away with him. They would have a lot of fun, running from governments and solving crimes. But John did need some type of stability and he did like his friends and the few family members he was in touch with. He was also about to have a daughter and even if he did leave Mary, he would want to be in the girl’s life.  
 Sherlock reached his hand out and hovered it over John face and shoulder, trying not to wake him but feeling the warmth seeping from his body. He was probably never going to see this again in person, John asleep. It as an oddly comforting sight. When he was away before he often thought about it, which is probably odd but he couldn’t care about what the general feeling on that was.  
  
Maybe he could disappear again, himself. Mycroft would probably turn a blind eye on the whole thing. He may even help stage his death. He could come back to John in some time, just with a different name and maybe shorter or lighter hair. Maybe by then John would want to run away with him.  
  
“What time is it?” John murmured and Sherlock moved his hand to his lap, quickly.  
  
“Three in the morning.”  
  
“No bombs?”  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
“It will happen soon, don’t think they’ll wait much longer.” He looked up at Sherlock like he wanted to kiss him but he decided not to.  
  
“Mmm.”

**—5 minutes Ago—**

Greg stood against the wall, looking into the conference room that had some how turned into Sherlock’s office/command center/whatever it was. John was on the floor sleeping and Sherlock was looking at his computer when he abruptly closed it and reached out to John but didn’t touch him. Greg felt like that spoke volumes of their whole situation. Reaching out but never, really, touching one another.  
  
“They love each other, deeply.” Mycroft’s voice startled him. “I knew it would happen when John shot that cab driver and possibly saved my brother’s life. It was scary, I didn’t want my brother to fall in love, he’s always been so vulnerable.”  
  
“John’s going to be completely broken, Mike. You can’t make Sherlock go. Isn’t there something you can do?”  
  
“I’ve been trying, that’s what I’ve been really working on. Sherlock and my people and your people have this under control but I needed to see what I can do for my brother.”  
  
“Did you get anywhere?”  
  
He sighed, “I think I’ve figured out a way to get him to come back. He’s going to have to do this mission but I think I’ve figured away to make it less of a death mission. I was told if he solves this while minimizing the lives lost and returns from that mission he can stay in London but he can’t mess up again.”  
  
“Good.” Greg sighed. “I can’t see my mate broken up again. Make sure you never tell John that you knew about Mary the whole time, he will kill you.”  
  
“I don’t doubt that for a minute.” Mycroft put his hand on Greg’s back.  
  
“Enough people I like, or thought I like, shooting people that I like.” He chuckled as his and Mycroft’s phone went off.  
  
“The bomb was detonated at the Hilton.”  
  
“Fuck, we have to stop this.”  
  
“We will.” Mycroft said confidently. “They can’t be perfect, someone is going to see the break somewhere.”


	8. Chapter 8

John was on his fourth cup of coffee. It was nine in the morning and Mary was back with breakfast and clean clothes. She didn’t look very well rested but at least she got to sleep in a bed and it was for more than two hours last night. John had curled up on the floor for a few hours before the fifth bomb was detonated. It made him feel like he was in the army again, it had him oddly nostalgic for sand and blood and guns. He wondered if Mycroft could get him back in again when Sherlock left and he inevitably divorced Mary. He was getting old but they could always use doctor’s, right?  
  
They hadn’t heard anything from JM and it was making everyone irritable, especially Sherlock Holmes because that’s how the man tended to act when things weren’t going his way. Sherlock was being an arse and shouting at everyone any time they spoke to him.  
  
Sherlock did find out, John’s not sure how, that Jamie Milverton also went by the name Jacob Muller. That was the only real information that seemed to matter. All the reports that they had combed through didn’t give them a thing. There was also nothing of note that the investigators found at the bombing sites. Sherlock had gone to look at them as well at five in the morning but again, nothing. John had hung back, trying to find connections.  
  
“So, let’s say Frances changed her name to to something with JM because that seems to be their thing.” Mary offered her idea to the group of Sherlock, Mycroft, Greg, and John.  
  
Every time she spoke John felt himself becoming more and more angry with her. It was probably because he knew that the accent was a lie. Remembering that the accent was fake lead to John remembering that their entire life was a lie. Their vows were a lie. His life was a lie. He was on the verge of not being able to take it anymore.  
  
“If we look into deaths and disappearances in the UK of women in 1993 by narrowing it down to the initials JM, maybe we could get somewhere.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous.” Sherlock kicked the wall in front of him. “Idiots, everyone, including myself!”  
  
“Brother dear, it’s the most logical thing anyone, including yourself, has come up with in the last few hours.”  
  
“I don’t understand why you think it’s illogical. It’s the only logical thing that we have.” Mary said from her chair, her eyes following Sherlock as he paced around the room. ( _Liar. Liar. Liar._ )  
 “Because it’s going to take ages to go through all of that. We need something that stops this all now. We’ve let four bombs go off because we’re all too stupid to see this.” Sherlock growled at her.  
  
“We can’t stop it now.” John said, darkly. “If we could, you’d be there already. Why the bloody hell can’t one of your geniuses figure this out?”  
  
“John, love -”  
  
“No, you don’t get to call me love.” John shook his head and held a hand up in Mary’s direction.  
  
“Great, here we go, as if we have time for a sodding domestic!” Sherlock complained.  
  
“Shut up, you bastard.” John stood up so fast from his chair that it fell over behind him. “I can’t sit in this sodding room anymore with either of you.”  
  
“What did I do?” Sherlock scrunched his nose, which John would find endearing if he hadn’t been so angry.  
  
John threw his head back and laughed. Yep, he had reached his breaking point and he never had thought it would have been over Mary calling him ‘love’. “You came in to my bloody life, that’s what you did. With your fucking serial killers and grand thefts and mystery, being everything I could need.”  
  
Sherlock gaped at him, clearly confused.  
  
“If I never met you then I would have never missed you that first time and I would have never met her.” He pointed to Mary. “And she wouldn’t have broke my heart either.”  
  
“John -”  
  
“No, you got to have your fucking monologue yesterday and spill your heart -”  
  
“You’re lashing out in anger.”  
  
“Bloody right I am!” He tossed his hands in the air. “You’re going to listen too!”  
  
Sherlock nodded at him, staring at him blankly and Mary bit her lip.  
  
“I fell in love with you and you fell off a fucking roof and pretended to be dead for two years. Don’t say you didn’t know that I loved you back then because you know everything.  
  
“I met Mary, thinking that I was lucky enough to get two people in my life that I would care so much about and have them care for me too. Then you came back and shattered the fucking illusion. The illusion was that I loved her in the first place because you came back, after I got over how enraged I was, I realized that I would never, ever love anyone more in my life than I love you.” He took a deep breath.  
  
“But I loved Mary, on some level. To top it off you never told me that you loved me or even outed that I loved you so I figured that it would never happen. I married Mary because she was the next best thing to what I wanted.  
  
“That was Mary and Mary doesn’t really exist. She’s a cover and who ever she really is shot you. She bloody shot you and you told me to go back to her and my baby.” John realized some of this should have been directed at Mary but for some reason he figured he needed to be talking to Sherlock. Probably because he never really _talked_ to Sherlock. Not that he ever really _talked_ to Mary because most of the important things he said to her were rehearsed and probably a little forced.  
  
“I thought that I could do it, love Mary, because who ever she is says that she loves me. I can’t do it. I can’t even look at this woman anymore. I tried. I can’t because every time I look at her, I’m going to remember that one, I don’t know who Mary is and two, she’s the reason you’re going away again.  
  
“You murdered someone to protect Mary because you thought it was going to make my life easier. It’s her fault and it’s your fault. It’s my fault too, don’t think I don’t know that but I think most of the blame goes to the two people who lied to me so much.  
  
“I don’t know who to deal with any of it because you’re leaving me after you told me you loved me on the tarmac before going away to your exile. I’m going to be alone again and it’s going to be painful because of her and you.”  
  
Sherlock had his hands on his hips, “It’s your fault I couldn’t untangle the web all the way, why I missed this.”  
  
“Shut up.” John dug his nails into his palms. “You’re pushing me away because you think that’s what’s best for me.”  
  
“If I didn’t love you, these people wouldn’t be dying, I would have figured it out. I rushed to get back to you and you had moved on anyway.”  
  
“Because I thought you were dead! It was two fucking years!” John yelled so loud that his voice actually rang out in the room. The whole Yard probably heard him. “You wanted me to be happy and I tried. Obviously I fucked up.”  
  
“As did I. Sentiment is truly a defect.”  
  
“You can’t put all these lives lost on my shoulders.”  
  
“I’m not, they’re on mine. It’s my fault that I am in love with you.”  
  
John was a little stunned that Sherlock said the words in front of everyone, “Fuck off. You can’t say it like that.”  
  
“It’s not as if we’d ever work, John. You’re being delusional, I was being delusional. I only said those things because I was being selfish.”  
  
“You’re being an arsehole.”  
  
“I’m being honest.”  
  
“No, you were being honest yesterday. Right now, you’ve got your mask up and you’re lying through your teeth because you think you’re doing this for the better of both of us. You’re not.”  
  
Sherlock seemed to not know what to say back to him.  
  
John suddenly felt a panic attack creeping in. “I need air.”  
  
“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Sherlock stated.  
  
“No shite, leave me alone.” John left the room, slamming the door behind him for good measure.  
  
The whole conversation was one of the most ridiculous and dramatic things John had ever done in his life but it was bound to happen after spending so much time with Sherlock. He wished that it didn’t end in him feeling like he was going to died because he throat was constricting and his heart was racing.  
  
He hated the idea of taking the lift, being enclosed in a small area was a bit not good at the time, but he also couldn’t walk down seven flights of stairs in the state he was in. John needed to be outside in the fresh air.  
  
Luckily he made it out of the building without incident and he was finally standing on the pavement outside, listening to the noise of the city. The whole fight or flight kicked in and his normal urge to fight wasn’t there so he walked because he needed to. He needed to put something between him, Sherlock, and Mary too.  
  
“John?” A familiar voice said behind him. “John Watson!”  
  
He turned around to see Janine, “Oh, ah, hey Janine.”  
  
“How are you? How’s being married treating you?” He found Irish lilt extremely pleasant at the time.  
  
“Oh… it’s…”  
  
She frowned, “I’m sure it’s just a silly row. Mary loves you. How is she? ‘Haven’t seen her all that much since the hospital with Sherlock.”  
  
“She’s fine, busy with everything.” He couldn’t exactly tell this woman, who Sherlock and Mary lied to in order to get close to Magnussen, the truth.  
  
“Guess that’s what happens when you get married. Not that I would know.”  
  
“Yeah, ah, sorry about Sherlock doing that to you again.”  
  
“Don’t be silly, you and I both know you have no control over what he does when he wants something.”  She practically giggled. “Plus, I got my due.”  
  
“I’m sure you did, I’m glad someone cashed in on the tosser.” He forced a smile.  
  
“I can’t tell if you’re talking about my former boss or Sherlock.”  
  
John wasn’t sure either so he just laughed.  
  
“Would you like to get coffee? I was meeting a friend for brunch but she’s flaked out on me.”  
  
“As long as I keep it decaf, sure.” The amount of caffeine in his system wasn’t doing him any good.  
  
She gave him a funny look but nodded, “I know a place down the way.”

**—1 Week Ago—**

 “I don’t get why he did it.” John looked at the bottom of his glass. “He could have figured out a way to do it without killing him, right?”  
  
Mary shrugged, “I don’t know.”  
  
“Mycroft said I can go by his place today. That’s where Sherlock’s staying. It’s probably nice having the British Government as your brother in some cases.”  
  
“Are you going to eat? You haven’t ate much since the other day.”  
  
“Yeah. What do you think they’re going to do with him?”  
  
“Seeing as he’s not sitting in jail right now and everyone thinks Magnussen killed himself, probably exile him quietly or force him to work for MI5 or MI6.” Mary said and it made John remember who she really was. He hated the little reminders that kept popping up.  
  
“Should I go see him?”  
  
“Yeah, he killed someone for you - us.” Mary smiled.  
  
The next day John showed up at Mycroft’s opulent flat and a large man let him in and directed him to Sherlock’s room. He found the man sitting on his bed reading.  
  
Sherlock tossed the book aside and jumped out of bed when he saw John, “Thank god, I’m going completely mad here. Mycroft is trying to kill me with boredom. They figure this is the best place to keep me, it won’t cause a public uproar.”  
  
John laughed, “So, do you know -”  
  
“I’m going probably going to be leaving after the New Year for an exile. Mycroft is working the whole thing out, they’re going to send me on some missions probably. Put me to use.”  
  
“So, you’re going to be leaving?”  
  
“It’s not set in stone but most likely.”  
  
John wasn’t sure what came over him, most likely the fact this was probably going to be one of the last times he was going to see Sherlock, but he rushed at Sherlock and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He needed this one more time.  
  
Without thought he got Sherlock out of his t-shirt and bottoms and pushed him back on to his bed. He looked gorgeous stretched out, miles of pale skin on the deep red duvet. John climbed on top of him.  
 They said that they weren’t going to do this again but John felt like he needed it one last time. It was dangerous, on some level, sleeping with Sherlock. It wasn’t supposed to be something that they did but it was good - great.  
  
He had no clue how else to say goodbye either because they didn’t do the whole tell other people your feelings thing. That would be very out of character. John only did it when he could plan out what he wanted to say or when he got so angry that his top would pop. Most of the time with the latter though, it was mostly things to make the other person angry as well.  
  
“You’re wearing far too many clothes John.” Sherlock tugged at the bottom of his jumper as John attacked his neck.  
  
“Mmm, mmmhmm. You’re right.” He disrobed, less than gracefully, before attaching himself to Sherlock’s mouth again. He was going to miss that wonderful, brilliant mouth. It did amazing things.  
  
“Fuck me.” Sherlock wrapped his long legs around his waist.  
  
“I don’t have -”  
  
“Condom in your wallet and I have lube in my bag.”  
  
“Why do you have lube in your bag?” John questioned as he detached from Sherlock.  
  
“One never knows what can happen.”  
  
“Always prepared.”  
  
“I try.”  
  
John retrieved what he was looking for before joining Sherlock back in the bed. He was now on his stomach, waiting for John.  
  
He put the condom and lube by Sherlock’s right hip then kissed his way down his back, paying careful attention to a smattering of freckles along his shoulders and the mole midway down his back.  
  
“Get on with it, will you?” Sherlock wiggled his butt.  
  
“Pushy.” Grabbed the tube of lube and slicked his fingers.  
  
“You’re the one moving at a - ahhh - glacial pace.” John smiled as his fingers dragged down Sherlock’s cleft.  
  
“How do I shut you up?” He circled his index finger around Sherlock’s opening.  
  
He moaned, “You like it when I talk during sex.”  
  
“I like it when you babble, it’s different.” He pressed his finger into him, slowly and carefully.  
  
Sherlock made a noise of satisfaction as John worked at opening him up.  
  
“Ah, quiet.” John brushed his finger over Sherlock’s prostate and the man shivered with pleasure.  
  
“Stop teasing and finish getting me ready.” He complained.  
  
“Telling people what to do, won’t always get you places.” John pulled his finger out carefully and Sherlock groaned. “Bossy.” He slid two fingers in.  
  
“Nnngh.” Sherlock tried to thrust back on John’s hand.  
  
“Will you let someone else be in control for ten minutes?” He held on to the other man’s hip.  
  
“Boring.”  
  
“Dick.” He laughed, scissoring his fingers.  
  
“No, John, those are your fingers. Honestly, you’re a doctor.”  
  
“You’re so cheeky.” John laughed and swatted Sherlock’s right cheek with his free hand.  
  
Sherlock stayed somewhat quiet for a few minutes, mostly, until he decided to get impatient again. John could have spent the whole day fingering him and watch him writhe around while making little noises but he wasn’t going to waste his last possible time with Sherlock.  
  
He kissed Sherlock’s thigh before moving away to grab the condom, “Turn over. Pillow under your hips.”  
  
Once Sherlock positioned himself as John requested, “Interesting.” Sherlock’s eyes looked into his, searching for something.  
  
“What is?”  
  
“You.”  
  
“Sure.” John moved Sherlock’s legs to his shoulders. “All right like this?”  
  
“All right.” He nodded as John lined himself up.  
  
“Good.” John sighed as he pushed in easily.  
  
He took his time, slow and deep thrusts. He leaned down to pepper Sherlock’s face and neck with kisses. It felt different from most of their screwing around, it felt like it was something more.  
  
“This is good, fuck it’s really good, but you need to go harder and faster. Make me come, John, that’s the point of this whole exercise.” Sherlock arched up and touched himself.  
  
John smacked his hand away and wrapped his own around him, “Again. With. The. Bossing. Around.” He snapped his hips in and out with each word.  
  
Sherlock grinned like a madman and reached behind him for leverage and so he wouldn’t be driven up the headboard.  
  
A few minutes later Sherlock came, bellowing so loud that Mycroft’s men outside the door probably thought he was being killed. John followed behind, a few thrust after.  
  
“Oh, that’s one to remember, I’d say.” John said, panting and sweating on top of Sherlock.  
  
“Yes, thank you for this conjugal visit.” Sherlock wiped his hand across his forehead.  
  
“You’re not mad, you said we should stop.” He pulled out and tossed the condom in the bin near the bed.  
  
“I did that for your benefit.”  
  
“Right. Mary.” He flopped back next to the other man. He never thought he’d cheat before this.  
  
“I’m sure she won’t care just this once.”  
  
“It happened more than once.”  
  
“You were separated.”  
  
“You are you going to tell her?”  
  
John wasn’t sure but he nodded yes.  
  
There was a knock at the door and Mycroft’s voice called, “Sherlock.”  
  
“What could you possibly want?”  
  
“Yes, what could I possibly want? What do you think? When you and John are finished… chatting… will you meet me in my office.”  
  
“Yes! Bugger off!” Sherlock yelled, John could feel himself blushing.  
  
“I should go, leave you to it.” He got out of bed.  
  
“You’ll come see me off when I leave?”  
  
“Yeah, is that ok? Would Mycroft let me?”  
  
“Yes and I’d like to see Mary.”  
  
John frowned but agreed to it. He didn’t want to see Sherlock go anywhere. Maybe Mycroft could work out a way for him to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed some typos in past chapters and I'll go back and fix those. I hate it when my brain moves faster than my fingers or puts in what is wants to see when I reread things.
> 
> Also, I'm in search of a fic and I was wondering anyone knows what the hell I'm talking about. I remember reading a fic a while ago and all I remember is so vague. I randomly just thought about it and was hoping someone would know what it is. Here’s what I know:
> 
> -Takes place in Sherlock’s childhood home/estate because John and Sherlock needed to be in a safe house because Moriarty or Moran were after them (I think at least)  
>  -Pretty sure Mummy is in it  
>  -Sherlock’s childhood Nanny plays a pretty decent role in getting the boys together  
>  -The maid is either Moran or Moriarty’s sister or wife or something (Sherlock catches her going into John’s room)  
>  -I’m pretty sure it’s before the relationship but moves into it  
>  -There’s a scene where John and Sherlock are napping in Sherlock old nursery or bedroom  
>  -I’m not sure if it’s post TGG or post reichenbach.
> 
> Maybe I’m just making it up?


	9. Chapter 9

After John’s outburst the room was silent, everyone was clearly uncomfortable with the exchange that had happened between him and Sherlock. Everyone quietly went back to work without a word. Sherlock was unsure if he should have said something to Mary about it because John was clearly on the verge of leaving her permanently. Not to mention he talked about her as if she wasn’t there and said that he loved Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock drummed his finger on his bottom lip, trying to understand what the network was doing. “Why is it so nebulous? Is it a clue to show how far reaching they are still? They are show offs, we know that. But why aren’t they showing off right now? They’ve been quiet for too long.”  
  
“They’re making us wait like they made us wait for the last detonation. They’re probably going to pull something big. Moriarty liked to make big statements didn’t he?”  
  
He went back into his mind palace. Nothing was there for him to find though. He kept running into John.  
  
“You know you who has the initials JM?” Mary questioned, finally breaking the silence that was extremely distracting to him. He was never going to get any work done now.  
  
“I would say millions of people.” He ventured a broad guess.  
  
“No, you smartarse, Janine. Janine Marbury, you know my maid of honor and your former fiancée.”  
  
Sherlock snickered, “You couldn’t possibly think that we both missed the fact that you became friends with and I pretended to be in love with Moriarty’s sister?”  
  
“She’s Irish.”  
  
She was but that didn’t mean anything, plenty of people were Irish and had the initials JM. That didn’t make her Jim’s relative.  
  
Sherlock suddenly recalled something, “She also told me that she was an orphan.”  
  
Mary was already searching, “Janine Marbury was an orphan but she’s still alive, no missing persons report either. Her whole life is on here. And there’s a picture of her. I guess I just got a little over zealous. I was just grasping.”  
  
“It’s possible that it’s all doctored. These people know their way around a computer.” Sherlock paced, “Where the hell is John?”  
  
“He went to get air.” Lestrade answered him.  
  
“Thirty minutes ago. Someone check if he’s ok. I told him not to go anywhere without someone.”  
  
“Thought you were angry with him.” Mary raised an eyebrow.  
  
“If anyone should be, it’s you. You should be angry with us both.”  
  
She sighed, “I screwed up my relationship with John ages ago.”  
  
“Fix it.” Sherlock muttered.  
  
“It’s beyond fixing, we tried.”  
  
“I know, I don’t know why I said that.” Sherlock scrubbed his hands through his hair.  
  
“We’ve lost John.” Mycroft said, looking at his phone. “He went to a coffee shop down the road with a woman but both of them are missing.”  
  
Sherlock felt as if his heart had jumped up to his throat, “What does she look like?” He walked over to Mycroft who was holding his phone out.  
  
“I believe you both know her.”  
  
He looked at the CCTV footage and nearly dropped the phone, “Janine.”  
  
Sherlock felt for a moment that he was underwater, it was almost the same feeling he had when he was shot. The same feelings he had when Magnussen said he had no documents. The same feeling he had before getting on the plane to his exile. The same feeling when John was kidnapped. The same feeling he had before he had to fake his death two years ago. It was the feeling of losing John, the feeling of harm being done to him.  
  
“Oh god.” Mary came over to where he was. “How did we miss it?”  
  
“She’s good, better than her brother.” Sherlock grabbed his coat. “You all remember Richard Brook, no doubt it’s the same person. Very tech savvy.”  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
“The coffee shop, maybe there’s something there. John hates when I let him be held captive for too long.”  
  
“They already went over it -”  
  
“Your people are idiots!” He yelled at his brother. “I don’t trust them at all to find anything significant!”  
  
“Ok, let’s go.” Mycroft nodded, giving into his brother a little to easy for Sherlock’s liking. “There’s a car waiting downstairs for you. Mary?”  
  
“I’ll stay here.”  
  
“She’s not feeling well.” Sherlock supplied to Greg and Mycroft. “Mary, do some more research into Frances and Janine.”  
  
“I know what to look for.” She reminded him, with a look in her eye that said ‘I’m not an idiot’.  
  
“Sherlock,” Mycroft handed him his phone. “You’ve a message and you’re not going to like it.”  
  
    I’m sure by now you’ve figured it out, love. Keep your computer on and we’ll be in touch very soon. -JM  
  
If only he had seen it long before. Mary and Janine were good, if they weren’t on opposing sides they may have actually been real friends. They were both killers, cold blooded killers. That little speech he gave on John about women who kill may have been helpful months ago for himself.  
  
“They’re not going to kill him.”  
  
“How do figure this? By killing John in front of us, that’s the worst thing they could possibly do.” Sherlock gestured his hands around him. “They know that we both love John.”  
  
“But they want to kill both of us.” Mary chewed on her lip.  
  
“Or make our lives miserable, make us want to die.” Sherlock’s fingers twitched. “I need a cigarette.”  
  
“That’s not going to solve everything.”  
  
“But it will help me think.” He basically snarled at his brother.  
  
“If you leave, you might miss John.”  
  
Sherlock huffed and folded his arms.  
  
( _How could I let this happen?_ )  
  
About an hour later there was a video call on Sherlock’s laptop. He quickly accepted it to be greeted by an image of John tied down to a metal chair in the middle of an empty room. He had a split lip and a black eye. He shirt was torn. Fractured rib. He clearly tried to fight his way out.  
  
There was a man standing to John’s right, armed.  
  
Sherlock tried to feed all the information he could get from the room but it felt so overwhelming, he could barely process it.  
  
“Hello, Sherl!” Janine strutted out in front of the camera. She was in a tight blue dress with a grey cardigan over, very different from the dingy surroundings. “Ah, Mary! Oh, you’re rather pregnant now aren’t you?”  
  
Mary just gave her a look with her lips pursed.  
  
“Aw, John was excited to see me.”  
  
“He had no idea who you really were.”  
  
“Not that we all weren’t surprised. You’re a better liar than me.”  
  
“Aw, we’re best friends, aren’t we Mary?”  
  
“Oh, the best.” Mary said sarcastically.  
  
“I think we’re both about the same level of liars. At least we don’t lie about our feelings, leaving us pining for someone that we could have.”  
  
Sherlock clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth probably cracked, “What do you want Janine? How do we get John back?”  
  
Janine chuckled, “Always John, John, John. Jimmy was always soooooo jealous of that with Sherl. Worried me a bit at how fascinated he was in you. I told him you could be trouble and look what you did.  
  
“I was never jealous though, it was all work. I know you were so obviously trying to be vulnerable to get me to spend time with you, you should have used something less than the truth. You blabbered on about never being about to let your real feelings out and told me that you wished you could have done that with someone in your past, John obviously.  
  
“Mary too, you are so blatantly in love with him, you nearly ruined your cover. Thought it felt the same way for you, maybe he did but it’s obvious he knows who you are now but when you were in the dark… What is it with John?” She cocked her head to the side before turning to look at him. “He’s nice, marginally attractive… but why on earth are two geniuses so interested in this tiny little brain?”  
  
“He’s rather brilliant, in his own way, Frances.”  
  
She turned back towards the camera, “Oh, look at you, you really figured it all out.” Her mouth form an ‘o’. “How was that?”  
  
“Maybe we’ll tell you if you tell us what you want.”  
  
“Someone probably slipped up somewhere. Hard keeping so many people in line, it’s much better working alone, isn’t it Mary?”  
  
“What do you want?” Sherlock demanded.  
  
“I guess we should get to that, we can chat when you get here.”  
  
“Where is here?”  
  
“You think I’m going to tell you that?” Janine scoffed.  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
“I’m only going to kill one of you. Whoever that may be, you’re going to go downstairs and get into the car we’ve provided. The longer you take, the more bones I have Seb here break in John’s body. Starting with his left hand.”  
  
“What?” Mary asked.  
  
“Oh, do you need a demonstration?” She made a motion with her hand and the man next to John moved over to him and soon there was the unmistakable sound of a bone breaking then John screamed in pain.  
  
Sherlock made the motion to move and Mary, the same.  
  
“Silly geniuses, I said one of you. I’ll keep John alive for the other.”  
  
“Clearly you don’t understand the current situation between us all.”  
  
“I have a vague idea but that’s fine. Either way, it will cause the living a life of pain.” She glanced at Sebastian. “Now, one of you, please make your way downstairs and I’ll see you soon.  
  
“By the way, Sherlock’s not leaving for good, I hear. Mycroft worked his magic once more. Well, that is if he lives.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“You should ask your brother but I guess he worked out some deal.” She sounded bored, “Oh! If someone follows you here, Mycroft Holmes I’m talking to you, I’ll denote the remaining bombs. Also, leave your cell phones and weapons where you are now. See one of you soon.” She smiled then the screen went black.  
  
“I’m going.”  
  
“So he can hate me more?” Mary shook her head.  
  
“He may hate you but if I let you go he would look at me and only see the fact that I let his unborn daughter die. I die. It lives. John’s lived without me before, he’s been preparing for me to go away anyway. He’ll survive. I can’t have him hating me every single day of our lives because I let his daughter be killed. Think about your unborn child, Mary.”  
  
She shifted her weight, “He’ll look at me knowing that I let you die. He’ll probably see that in the baby too.”  
  
“I’m right, you know that I’m right. John will love that child more than anything, it’s apart of him.”  
  
“And apart of me, who he hates.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, John will feel even more loyal to it than he does to us.” Sherlock set his phone on the table. “I’ll be sure to tell him that you offered yourself up. Now, if we’re done I have places to be. I’d like to get John back to you with little broken bones.”  
  
“Sherlock -”  
  
“No, Mycroft we can not do anything. It’s too late for your plans. You were so eager to put me on the plane, this is no different.”  
  
His brother shook his head, “I was going to say be sure to wrap up warm.” He handed Sherlock his scarf.  
  
“Yes, your lovely story about the East Wind.” Sherlock wrapped the scarf around his neck after pulling on his coat. “Lestrade, I’m sure it’s been a pleasure.”  
  
“Are you sure we can’t figure something else out?” He looked between Sherlock and Mycroft.  
  
“No.” He snapped.  
  
The DI nodded at him.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sherlock.” Mary sighed, dropping her assumed accent and revealing her true American Mid-Atlantic accent. Lestrade was a bit shocked at it. “We really were friends, I got along with you.We probably could have made a damn good team. I’m not saying that as Mary, I’m saying that as Anna.”  
  
“Only after you went rouge, I don’t need to be doing The States’ dirty work as well.” He pulled on his gloves.  
  
“Of course.” She smiled and for some reason he was sure that it was completely genuine.  
  
“I’m very annoyed I won’t be having any conversations with Anna. I’m very interested in what happened to lead you here but I apparently will never know.”  
  
Sherlock left the room, feeling like walking to his death was getting a bit old.

**—5 Years Ago—**

John rubbed his hand up Sherlock’s thigh, “That was… good.”  
  
“I think that may have been an understatement.” John laughed before planting a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead.  
  
“My mind isn’t working well at the moment.”  
  
“I enjoy doing that to you.” He trailed his hand down Sherlock’s stomach and then up to his chest.  
  
“I know that. It makes you feel like you have some power over me.” He yawned.  
  
“Mmmhmmm.”  
  
They were quiet and Sherlock dozed off for an undetermined amount of time and when he woke up John was reading next to him. Their relationship was far too much like dating, it made Sherlock a bit uncomfortable.  
  
“I should go, I need to check on the moths.” He cleared his throat as he rummaged around the bed for his pants.  
  
“I thought you were done with that experiment? I binned those.” John set his book aside.  
  
“You - what?” He had finished them but he didn’t have any other excuse to vacate the room that wouldn’t make John yell at him about sleeping.  
  
“You said you were done and you were writing it up for you blog. I asked you if I could bin them and you said yes. Did you delete that conversation?”  
  
“I just answered you without hearing, I do that from time to time.” Sherlock pulled on his pants before getting out of the bed.  
  
“Are you being a tit on purpose or…”  
  
“I’m acting as I always act.”  
  
“Um, you’re being a bit of a dick. I know you heard me earlier and for some reason I feel like you’re running away from me.” John grabbed his hand and pulled him back into bed.  
  
“We aren’t dating.” Sherlock blurted.  
  
“Ah, I know. Relationships aren’t your area, you’re married to your work.” John let his hand go.  
  
“And it will never change.”  
  
“I know.” He laughed.  
  
“And you want to marry a woman and have children. You refuse to let people know that you’re really bisexual anyway. Even though you have a toxic relationship with your parents you still fear you will never get their approval because of that.”  
  
“Ah huh.”  
  
“We are just friends with benefits.”  
  
“Yes we are.”  
  
“It’s most likely inappropriate for me to sleep in your bed. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”  
  
“You’re being ridiculous right now.” John shook his head. “You can stay in my bed and I won’t get the wrong idea. You barely sleep anyway so it’s good that you’re sleeping somewhere.”  
  
“I sleep.”  
  
“Hardly! Look, if you want to sleep here then you can do it. I’m not going to fall in love with you just because you’re having a kip in my bed.”  
  
Sherlock studied John. They had been sleeping together for a couple of weeks and John’s actions and feelings towards him hadn’t changed much, if at all.  
  
“Ok. What could be the harm anyway?” Sherlock settled back down to bed.  
  
“Those sound like some famous last words.” John laughed.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Nothing.” John turned his light off. “‘Night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! I actually decided to make a side blog for Sherlock stuff...follow me? emeliadoyle.tumblr.com


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock met his captors outside of Scotland Yard. They were driving a large black SUV, because what else do villains drive ( _government officials drive the same thing, funny isn’t it_ )? The man ( _mid-thirties, worked out excessively and took steroids, armed, two dogs, not married but serious girlfriend_ ) standing outside the car patted Sherlock down then opened the door for him and Sherlock slid into the back seat. The guard joined him, closed the door, and the put a fabric bag over his eyes after binding his hands.  
  
“This is ridiculous, I’m going on my own volition.” He grumbled, testing the strength of the zip ties on his wrist. No way that he was going to be getting out of them.  
  
“Ma’am wants to make sure you don’t try anything funny.”  
  
“I don’t have many options outside of being shot and killed.”  
  
“Not sure if she’ll make it that easy. Normally she likes drawing things out. Now shut up, we’ve a bit of a ride and I would rather not have to gag you.”  
 Sherlock bit his lip and sank a bit into his seat. He tried his best not to think about the pain John was probably in.  
  
It took an hour to arrive at their destination. It was most likely somewhere within Greater London but he couldn’t be sure. When he got out of the car the area was quiet, barely any traffic noise.  
  
He was led into the house and then down some stairs, clearly to the basement. He could smell blood, sweat, Chanel No. 5, coffee, and John.  
  
“Hello, Sherl!” Janine pulled the sack off of his head. It took him a second for his eyes to adjust to see John sitting in the chair behind her. “We’ve been waiting very patiently for you. I only let Seb break one of John’s feet afterward.”  
  
“How kind of you. Are you all right? I know that you’re injured so don’t lie.” Sherlock’s eyes glanced over his body.  
  
“Fine. I’m fine, Sherlock.” His voice was a bit gravely. “You.” He shook his head.  
  
“I, what?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
He looked around the rest of the room, not that there was too much to see and not that it mattered too much. There were three guards with Moran and Janine, all armed. Close to the ceiling there were three windows at ground level and the stars that lead to the main floor were behind Sherlock. The basement was lit by a few exposed, overhead lights. It was fairly dank and bare aside from three chairs. Very cliché.  
  
“I was hoping Mary would come.” Janine pouted as a chair was placed behind Sherlock and he was forced to take a seat. “I have somethings I’d like to talk to her about but you’re here. That’s fine.” One of the guards bound Sherlock to the chair by his ankles and once around his chest, just as John.  
  
“Why now? Why do all of this?”  
  
“Would you like to to explain my whole plan? Leading to this, I sort of had a few different plans in the air. I can see why my brother was so disappointed in you.” She made a ‘tsking’ sound.  
  
“He likes a monologue, sure the whole plan will do.” John gave a tight smile.  
  
“Only if it’s good.”  
  
“Such a pity, you two make a great pair. Sadly it’s so sort lived.” She pulled a chair between them so she could easily turn her attention, almost like center court at a tennis match.  
  
“So, how did we get to where we are today, darling?” Sherlock asked, attempting to be charming.  
  
“Is he really this charming when he’s not putting on an act?” She questioned John.  
  
“No, he’s an arse.”  
  
Janine chuckled, “Which you find charming, right?”  
  
John gave a bit of a lopsided smile, “At times.”  
  
“Can we get on with it.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
  
“Where do you want me to start?” She crossed her ankles.  
  
“So Jim faked your deaths when you were teenagers.”  
  
“Nearly the very beginning… but yes, easy enough, child’s play as they say.”  
  
“Then you murdered your adoptive parents.”  
  
“Oh, they were terrible people. My adoptive father is the one who broke my leg. He did a lot worse to Jim and Jamie.”  
  
“Why did Jamie stay?”  
  
“We wanted to keep tabs on our adoptive parents.”  
  
“Until you could kill them?”  
  
“I think that was fairly justified. Don’t you doctor?”  
  
“I have no idea, wasn’t there.”  
  
“I know you like killing people but you need a reason, we always have reasons.” Janine addressed John.  
  
“Immoral reasons.”  
  
“Morals and ethics are so subjective. Depends on the person.”  
  
Sherlock interrupted John and Janine’s little conversation, “How did you fall into the life of crime?”  
  
“One thing lead to another, Jim and myself were and are rather enterprising. Soon enough we had a nice little empire.”  
  
“How is that?”  
  
“A little money laundering there, some drug and human trafficking there, some genocides here, infiltrate a few governments there… Criminals are easy to come across. It was all well and good.”  
  
“How nice.”  
  
“That was until and you and Anna… I mean Mary came along.”  
  
“Sorry to disturb.”  
  
“No need to lie… Mary started picking people off, starting with Sebs’ brother who was imbedded in with the CIA.”  
  
“This is rather personal, huh Sebastian?”  
  
“Quiet, love, no need to be mouthy. I don’t think you want me hurting John anymore.”  
  
Sherlock took a deep breath.  
  
“So, where was I? Right, You and Mary really took great care of killing and detaining some of our most important connections. You two really should have worked together, too bad you were both busy lying to John.”  
  
“Is that why you’re blowing us up? You hate us because what Mary and I did. Just kill Mary and I, it’s cleaner.”  
  
“Oh, but less fun. By the way we’re blowing London up because that was sort of a fail-safe for Jim. He said that if you somehow ended up alive, then follow through with plan B. I was going to have to kill you at the end of it all but then I thought this little exercise would be more fun. Are you having a good time, boys?”  
  
“It’s excellent. Is this because we never got to have a double date?”  
  
Janine giggled at John’s remark.  
  
Sherlock pushed on, “So why wait so long to kill Mary? Why work for Magnussen?”  
  
“Oh, Magnussen and I had an arrangement.”  
  
“He knew who you were?”  
  
“Obviously! I got to know everyone’s dirty little secrets. He gave me a great job for a cover. He was rather good in bed too, a bit kinky but well, you know.”  
  
“Again, why wait to kill Mary? Weren’t you worried she was going to catch on to you?” He was getting annoyed she wasn't answering that question.  
  
“No, my cover was so perfect, there was no way she’d find out who I was. I don’t even look like my brother, thanks to a little surgery. All we have in common are our accents and our massive brains.”  
  
“And general psychopathy.” John muttered and then receive a firm slap across his face from Sebastian.

  Janine ignored him resolutely, “The same masterminds that built Richard Brook built Janine Marbury. Janine was adopted into an upper-middle class family and went to uni. She even has friends. It was so tedious making friends with all those boring people, I’m sure you understand.”  
  
“I still want to know, why wait?”  
  
“By the time I found Mary, Jim and you were flirting with each other. I had to handle all that. When you faked your death I almost took care of the Mary business but then all of a sudden people started dying again and it mostly was impossible for Mary to be doing it. Eventually I realized it was you. You were very good at hiding.  
  
“Then you came back to life and you fell into my lap at the wedding… nearly literally. You were such a sad little puppy that day. You thought that John was leaving you for Mary, not that you didn’t like her, which made it worse. I pretended to hook up with that loser and you fled early. Three days later you’re calling me, asking for a date. How great of a time we had pretending we were dating. Jimmy would have been so jealous that I got to sleep in your bed. It’s too bad you didn’t let me touch you more than a cuddle and a few kisses.” She smirked.  
  
“You never shagged?” John was surprised.  
  
“Oh, Sherl was so tangled up with you. I bet he would have if he wasn’t harboring so many feelings for you. Have you ever told John how lonely you are? How you hate feelings because they make you so vulnerable? You were scared about the feelings being so intense because you had never experienced anything like that before. Granted, he was saying that about me but he was so transparent in missing you. At least you can finally confess your love right here, right now without any worry about having to really talk about it because the most you can do is say it."  
  
“I already told him.”  
  
“When you thought you were going to die anyway, right?”  
  
Sherlock didn’t say anything.  
  
“Oh, you’re a coward. That’s so sad. I had so much more hope for you Sherlock, my brother did as well.”  
  
“He’s not a coward.” John said angrily.  
  
“You both have at least shagged, right?”  
  
“None of your business.”  
  
“That’s a yes.” She twiddled her thumbs, playing bored. “Did you cheat on Mary with him?”  
  
“Why do you care?”  
  
“Oh! A yes again. Naughty boys.” She really emphasized the syllables in ‘naughty’. “Does Mary know?”  
  
They were both silent again.  
  
“That’s interesting.”  
  
“Hardly.”  
  
“Well then moving on, how do you live with yourself, going back to Mary after she shot Sherlock? Even if you aren’t dating, you’re clearly good friends and have feelings for one another.”  
  
“I managed.” John spoke briskly.  
  
“Mmm and when I ran in to you, you lead on that you had a row. Don’t think they’re going to stick together. Which is odd, why is Sherl here then? If Mary knew it was doomed, why didn’t she offer herself up then?”  
  
“She did.”  
  
“But you made her stay behind. Why?”  
  
“Because John would hate me if I let his daughter die.”  
  
“I see, how do you know that it’s your’s Doctor?” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I know for a fact that she shagged someone about eight months ago.”  
  
John’s jaw clenched.  
  
“He was blonde, may be able to pass it off as yours for now.” She shrugged. “Sherl would surely see it. Are we sure Mary didn’t try to kill Sherl because he would have seen it? That would make a lot of sense, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“You don’t need to make him hate her anymore, they’re done.”  
  
“Did you know she cheated, Sherl?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You knew?” John questioned him.  
  
“You told me not to tell you anything I knew. She told me one day when I confronted her about you taking her back.” Sherlock met John’s eyes. “I apologize.”  
  
“So, you’re risking your life for a child who may not even be John’s? I can’t tell if that’s daft or romantic.” She looked thoughtful. “No use to dwell on it, is there because the choice has been made. Sherlock Holmes, saving his damsel in distress once again.”  
  
“John’s hardly a damsel. He only gets himself into these situations because of me. It’s best if I take myself out of the equation.”  
  
“How do you feel about that John? Do you want Sherlock to be gone again?”  
  
John shook his head.  
  
“Jimmy said you like danger, you’re an addict. I can understand why you like being around Sherl. He gives you everything you want. I don’t know how you lived through that boring suburban life before he came back. Too bad Mary didn’t let you know what she was getting up to when she said she was out with friends and all those boring lies.”  
  
John didn’t say a word.  
  
“Why do the people around you lie, John? Are you emotionally fragile? You can’t handle it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
She paused, “How many times have you watched Sherlock Holmes throw himself into dangerous situations?”  
  
“Too many to count.”  
  
“How many times have you watched him die?”  
  
“Three times. His heart only stopped, for real, twice. I mean, he wasn’t technically dead but -”  
  
“But that first time was the hardest because you knew - well thought - there was no coming back. At least the other times, you had some hope his heart could be restarted.”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“What’s it going to feel like this time?”  
  
“The same as the first.” John stayed vague.  
  
“I think you should tell him how it felt that time.”  
  
John’s eyes seemed to shine a bit more than they did moments before. He noticeably swallowed four times, and he was clenching his good hand that was on his lap.  
  
“Go on, love, I don’t want to have Seb break another bone.”  
  
He coughed then licked his lips, “It felt like my heart was being ripped out of it’s chest. My life went back to being empty and meaningless. My limp came back before I met Mary. I thought about you every day and I never felt better, no matter what I told people. Even after I met Mary I was still desperately in love with you and I missed you so much.”  
  
Sherlock felt nauseous. He knew how upset John was when he had left him and came back but they had never talked about it because they never talked.  
  
“How many times, after today, will you see Sherlock die?”  
  
“Four.” John looked like he was being tortured, which technically he was.  
  
“What will -”  
  
“Stop it! Just fucking kill me.” Sherlock nearly growled.  
  
“If you don’t like John suffering then why do you put him through so much?”  
  
Sherlock nearly tipped his chair from struggling against the restraints. He needed to be up, standing and pacing. “Because there’s no other way to save him.”  
  
“How sad. Maybe I’ll just kill you both?”  
  
Sebastian pulled the gun that had been hanging from it’s harness on his hip and pressed it to John’s right temple.  
  
“You said he’d live.” Sherlock said through his teeth. “He gets to live.”  
  
“But do you think he’ll actually be happy?” Janine stood up and walked over to Sherlock, crouching in front of him a bit so they were at eye level. “You heard how he felt before and now his life is even more of a mess. Wouldn’t it be easier for him to die?”  
  
Sherlock felt his chest heaving and could hear his heart thumping in his ears.  
  
John was sitting up straight, eyes locked on Sherlock but he didn’t look scared. Sherlock wondered if John had accepted death as Sherlock had.  
  
“Answer me love, wouldn’t it be easier?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“He’s going to be miserable, is that what you want?”  
  
“John is a good man and he deserves to live and be happy. He still can.”  
  
The other man frowned and closed his eyes, “I can’t.” He whispered.  
  
“Why’s that John?” Janine rose to her full height again and walked towards John.  
  
“Because he’s the only way I can be happy.”  
  
“You can. You can find someone.” Sherlock pleaded with the man.  
  
“Clearly, I can’t.”  
  
“Maybe if I just kill you, John?”  
  
Sherlock’s voice felt as if it was caught in his throat, “No.”  
  
“I think I will. Looks like it will cause the most pain, even more than John’s own potential pain because if I kill John, you have nothing, Sherlock. John does have something resembling a normal life but without John you’re just a lonely, sad man.”  
  
Behind him Sherlock heard the door open and then two sets of feet climbed down the stairs, “Ma’am, I caught this one trying to sneak in here.”  
  
Sherlock craned his neck to see Mary standing next to the man Sherlock had rode to the house with.  
  
“Looks like we are having that double date after all.” Janine grinned. “You’re just about to see John die.”  
  
“What?” Mary’s fake accent was back. “You said -”  
  
“Like my brother, I’m rather changeable.”  
  
“You can’t -” Mary moved close to Sherlock.  
  
“I’m fairly sure that I can. It’s my game now, I make the rules.” She paused. “What were you doing trying to break in here with your pregnant belly? Does anyone know where you are?”  
  
“No, didn’t want to risk you blowing up London.”  
  
“Honey, I’ll still set those last bombs off.”  
  
“Right, it was worth a try though.”  
  
“Was she armed?”  
  
“Two guns.” The henchman answered.  
  
“Thought about taking all _six_ of mine with me but it was so much to carry.”  
  
“You have a death wish. Tell me someone is checking the grounds.”  
  
“Yes, Ma’am.”  
  
“Maybe I do have a death wish.” Mary pondered.  
  
“How did you find us?”  
  
“I have my ways, you know that.”  
  
“Still, I didn’t think you knew about this place.” Janine sighed loudly. “Anyways, you missed the exciting parts, Mary. I mean, you’ll see the grand finale but you’ve missed all the drama.”  
  
“Sorry for that.” Mary sneezed. “Bit dusty down here.”  
  
“It’s only temporary.”  
  
“I sure hope so.”  
  
“How about you take a seat to watch your husband die?” Janine pointed to the seat.  
  
Mary moved passed Sherlock, grazing a hand over his shoulder and whispered, “Vatican Cameos.”  
  
Sherlock’s eyes went wide and John gave him a confused look. ( _Mycroft. But how did he find us?_ )  
  
Mary walked right over to John and hugged him. Rubbing his shoulder as well. Clearly something was going on there.  
  
 “Oi, none of that.” Sebastian said, shooing Mary away with the gun before returning it to John’s head.  
  
Before Mary could even sit in the chair Janine had been in earlier the windows were breaking and three canisters rolled in. There were numerous people on the stairs behind him and Janine’s guards were all drawing their weapons. Sherlock tried to move forward as he heard eight gunshots in the room as it started to fill with smoke. John’s chair had fallen backwards during the gunshots and he wasn’t sure if he had been hit.  
  
Sherlock tried rocking his chair again to move towards him, he couldn’t see a thing now. “JOHN! JOHN!” ( _Oh god it was him. He was shot. Moran shot him. No. No. No. No._ ) “JOHN! ANSWER ME! JOHN!” Sherlock’s chair crashed backwards and he saw black.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock came back to with Mycroft and a few EMTs standing over him. He was now unrestrained so he jumped up from where he was on the ground, making the whole world move side ways and then spin.  
  
“Sherlock, sit back down, you have a concussion.” Mycroft voice echoed.  
  
He looked over to where John had been, over the bodies of Janine, Sebastian, and the henchmen, to see the chair empty with far too much blood on the floor. His mind went to the worst case scenario and he doubled over and vomited.  
  
“That’s probably the concussion.” Mycroft said. “You need to sit down.”  
  
“Where is John?” His hands was on his hands, still bent over. His voice shook, his throat burned, and his knees felt like jelly.  
  
“John is on his way to the hospital. He cracked his head open on the cement when he fell back, unlike you who got lucky. You know that head wounds bleed quiet a bit. He also has a punctured lung and may need some work on his hand and foot.” Mycroft explained. “He should be ok once he is properly taken care of.”  
  
Sherlock wiped his hand across his lips, “Take me to the hospital.”  
  
“That’s where you were headed. We need to check you out, make sure that you’re ok.” One of the EMTs said.  
  
“I need to see him.”  
  
“Not until he’s out of surgery, Sherlock.” Mycroft moved closer to him and in an odd fit of affection placed a hand on his back. “By the way, Mary is in labor.”  
  
Sherlock felt lightheaded so he sat down on the floor, “He’ll live?” He couldn’t spend too much time thinking about Mary having the child because all that was on his mind was ( _John. John John. John. John._ )  
  
“I believe so. Come to the hospital Sherlock.”  
  
He listened to his brother without fighting, he was sure it was the first time to ever happen.

**—2 Days Later—**

Sherlock curled up next to John, resting his head on John’s good shoulder. He still had not woke up from the hit to the head and Sherlock was starting to worry. He understood the science and biology of it all, which made it worse because there was no solid answer when and if he would wake up. The doctor’s assured him earlier that John was doing better, improving and he just needed time. Sherlock was very sick of waiting.  
  
“Please John, please wake up.” Sherlock whispered into his ear. “I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, I know you like the marriage thing and I wouldn’t be opposed to the whole ritual, as long as it were to with you. I’ll adopt a child or find some will participant for IVF because Mary’s baby, it’s not yours and I know now that your heart is set on having your own. She’ll tell you all about that. I like children, I just never thought of having my own but again, with you, I would not mind.”  
  
“You should have told him that a long time ago.”  
  
Sherlock looked up to see Lestrade standing in the doorway.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“Mike needs you. Wants to go over some stuff with you and Mary.”  
  
Mycroft had figured a way to save Sherlock’s life and it somehow involved Mary joining him on his mission ( _not to mention Mycroft offered her asylum from the CIA as well as a new identity for her and the father of the child if she started working for him_ ). He realized how useful she was when she came up with the plan to save John and Sherlock.  
  
His brother had put a GPS chip in the tag of his scarf and coat. Once they had the location Mary came up with the plan to fake a break in to distract them and bring out some agents on to the grounds. When Mary did join them, the touching and hugging was to put markers on them so Mycroft’s men wouldn’t kill them by mistake. She also knocked John’s chair down but Sherlock over looked it because it did save him from a deadly gunshot wound to the head.  
  
“We’re not leaving until we’re both cleared by doctors, that won’t happen for at least a week.”  
  
“You need a shower and you need to eat.”  
  
“Yeah, you need to eat.” John’s voice was rough.  
  
“John, you’re awake.” Sherlock scrabbled, accidentally kicking John’s foot.  
  
“Ow.” John coughed.  
  
“I’ll go get the doctor.” Lestrade grinned before dashing off.  
  
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Are you all right? Are you in a lot of pain?”  
  
“I think I’ve been better.”  
  
“No doubt.” Sherlock pressed a kiss to John’s dry, cracked lips.  
  
John pulled away, looking confused, “Where’s Mary?”  
  
He frowned because he really didn’t want that to be one of the first things for John to say. “Chatting with my brother I assume. She needs to speak with you.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound promising. Are you ok?”  
  
“I’m very good now.”  
  
“Because I’m awake? How romantic of and unSherlock of you.” John yawned.  
  
“Yes and if you ever tell anyone I will murder you and no one will find your body.” Sherlock threatened.  
  
“So, how’d I end up here? Is London burning to the ground?”  
  
“No, Mycroft’s men found the bombs. I’ll explain the whole thing when you’re feeling better and didn’t just wake up.”  
  
“So his men are not all worthless, are they?”  
  
“No.” He said reluctantly. “They are all still idiots.”  
  
“I’m sure. I can’t wait to hear about the rest, I’m sure it’s exciting. How long was I out?”  
  
“About two days.”  
  
“John, good you’re awake.” The doctor walked in.  
  
“It’s Doctor Watson.” Sherlock corrected.  
  
“I’m going to need a moment.” The doctor moved closer to the bed.  
  
“Why can’t I stay?”  
  
“Sherlock, go on. I’m sure you have things to do.” John patted his back. “Please, find some food.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
He left them alone and went to Mary’s ( _or Anna’s?_ ) room where she was holding her child. It looked as if she was getting ready to leave. Mycroft probably had received word from Greg that John was awake and went to go do whatever it was he did to control their lives.  
  
“John is awake and it seems as if he’s healthy.”  
  
“That’s good.” She put the child in it’s carrier. She had officially dropped her cover accent around Sherlock.  
  
“Are you going to tell him it’s not his?” He jutted his chin out towards the baby.  
  
“Of course I am. It’s very over with us, Sherlock. You win.”  
  
“I was never competing with you.” Sherlock furrowed his brow.  
  
“I know because I never had a chance.” She laughed. “Even when you were dead, you were more important to him. I tried, I did, but you rule his heart.”  
  
“I’m unsure if I deserve him.” Sherlock mumbled, looking down at his shoes.  
  
“You are the dumbest genius that I know.” Mary walked over to him. “You’re always going out of your way to help him. You do everything that you think is right for him. You play yourself off as a horrible person but you’re not. Deep down, you are who Mary is. That’s what John sees. You said that he fell in love with me because he knew that I was dangerous deep down but you know how much of a lie that was. John’s always liked to see where the danger is coming from. He likes the other stuff, the feelings, to be a bit below the surface.”  
  
“How did you find John?”   
“That’s something I’m saving to tell him, sorry. I’m sure he’ll tell you afterwards because you two tell each other everything. Ah, everything but how you two actually feel for one another.” She put her hands on her hips.  
  
Sherlock bristled, “We’ve talked.”  
  
“No, you yelled at each other. You haven’t actually talked. You might want to do that before we go do that little mission Mike was telling me about. I know it’s not a suicide mission anymore, now that he’s said you were the one to pin point the bombs and track down the culprits, saving London from any more death and destruction. The country is very happy for you to stay and keep it safe.”  
  
“When it was really you and my brother.” Sherlock sighed.  
  
“You’re brilliant, don’t doubt yourself, it doesn’t suit you.” She hugged him. “I’m going to talk to John and then I’ll see you when we hit the road.”  
  
“Where is the baby going when we’re gone?”  
  
“With it’s dad.”  
  
“That doesn’t bother you?”   
She shrugged. Anna was a bit colder than Sherlock realized.  
  
He wandered out to the waiting room by John’s room where he had a good view of the door. About forty-five later Mary and the baby entered John’s room and were in there for about an hour. She was probably telling John the truth and John was doing his best not to become too angry.  
  
When she came out she walked over to Sherlock, clearly having just cried, and told him that John was waiting to speak to him.  
  
As he approached the door, he had no idea why he felt suddenly nervous. John knew how he felt, there weren’t going to be any surprises.  
  
“You wanted to see me?” Sherlock scratched his head where he stood at the end of the bed. He still had no not looked at John.  
  
“Mary and I are getting a divorce.”  
  
“Unsurprising.” Sherlock looked at his nails.  
  
“Can you look at me?”  
  
He finally looked John in the eyes, he hadn’t cried like Mary did.  
  
“Ok, that’s better.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable, “The baby isn’t mine but Mary said you knew that.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“She also said that you and her are going on that mission.”  
  
“It’s no longer a death sentence.” He assured John.  
  
“That’s good because I’m going to need you to come back because I can’t deal with you dying.”  
  
“I’ll come back. It’s not a promise because I refuse to make promises.”  
  
“So, it’s ok when you get back that we move in together?”  
  
“We already - OH OH! Yes, of course. Into your room.”  
  
“And we’ll have all those things you told me in that monologue because I want that. I, ah, I always wanted that with you. I’m sorry I blamed you the other day for all the shitty things that have happened.”  
  
“I did have a hand in many of them.” He sat on the bed. “I’m sorry for yelling at you as well. I thought, maybe, I could still fix it with Mary.”  
  
“I don’t want Mary or Anna, I want you.”  
  
“You know her real name?”  
  
“I know a lot about her now. I also know that she found me because she figured out you were alive. She did get close to me for you because she thought I knew where you were. She says she really fell for me though, I don’t know if I believe that but…” John drifted off. “But I guess that doesn’t matter.”  
  
“It matters to you on some level. She did care about you, as much as she could. She went out of her way to make sure you didn’t know who she was because she wanted to stay in your life. She -”  
  
“Sherlock?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“I love you.” John said with a smile. “I just wanted to say that because I can without worrying you’ll run away or something.”  
  
“I am going away.”  
  
“Not by choice. How long are you going to be gone?”  
  
“About six months still.” Sherlock rested his hand on John’s right shin.  
  
“I’m going to miss you. You have to keep in touch. I mean, you don’t have to tell me every little thing but if you don’t let me know that you’re a live everyday then I’m going to track you down and kill you myself.”  
  
He nodded, “John, I love you too.”  
  
“I know. We don’t have to say it all the time, I know you hate repeating things but I just… sometimes it will be nice.”  
  
Sherlock grinned while biting his bottom lip, “I’ll remember that.”  
  
“Good.” John gestured towards him. “Now, come up here and tell me how Mary/Anna and Mycroft got us out of there.”

**—4 Years Ago—**

Sherlock was in the sitting room, stretched out on the couch, listening to John read. It was relaxing but not relaxing enough for it to not be bored.  
  
“Bored.” He tried his best to sound as exasperated as possible.  
  
“That’s nice.” John  muttered and turned a page.  
  
“Do something to entertain me.”  
  
“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “Not my job.”  
  
“Then what good are you.” He glared at him.  
  
“I don’t know, what good am I? I only feed you, make you sleep, make sure you don’t get shot, stitch you up…”  
  
“Fuck me.”  
  
“No.” John was now pretending to read.  
  
“Would it help if I begged?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Not even if I groveled?” Sherlock rolled on to the floor and crawled over on his knees to John’s chair. “I know you like me to beg. Would it not even help if I said ‘please John, fuck me. I’ll do anything. I’ll suck your cock’.”  
  
John just shook his head.  
  
“You are infuriating.” He threw himself back on to the floor. “Are friends with benefits supposed to have sex when they’re bored?”  
  
“Sure but I’m not in the mood now.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I had a bad day at work.” John put his book down and joined Sherlock on the floor. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Sherlock rolled closer to him, resting partially on top of him.  
  
John curled his arm around him and looked into Sherlock eyes with a slight smile.  
  
He felt panic rise up in his chest.  
  
( _He loves me. I love him. How did this happen?_ )  
  
“You ok?”  
  
“Yes.” Sherlock said quickly. “I feel rather sick to my stomach suddenly.”  
  
“Do you want me to get you anything? Was it the shrimp you had last night?”  
  
“No - I don’t know. I’m going to my room. Good night.”  
  
“Um, ok.” John looked at him skeptically. “Let me know if you need anything.”  
  
He fled to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him as if it would keep John and his feeling out.  
  
( _When did this happen? How did this happen? This was not supposed to happen. I can not lose John. He can never know._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter with this story! Kind of an epilogue. There might be more stories to this 'verse but I have a nearly finished story to follow Aplomb that I should probably finish.


	12. Chapter 12

Every morning for six months and twelve days John woke up to see a text message from Sherlock saying “Not Dead -SH”. It made things better as he worked through healing all the parts of his body that were broken, literally and metaphorically.  
  
He did light physiotherapy for his foot and hand once they were healed enough but before that he spent a lot of time sleeping and being fussed over by Mrs. Hudson. He also tried to get over the pain that Mary/Anna had caused him. It wasn’t easy but eventually he felt 100%. He had even started working at the A&E.  
  
“Congratulations on the divorce, mate.” Greg raised his pint. He had been dragged out with him, Molly, and DI Hunter, who had been joining Greg for their pub nights and dating Molly. “Mike says it’s final.”  
  
“Yes, he’s on his way over to drop off some stuff.”  
  
“Speaking about about me, John?” Mycroft set an envelope in from of John. “It’s all said and done now. I apologize for it taking so long.”  
  
“Not an issue, glad it was done before Sherlock came back.”  
  
“Yes, he’ll be very happy.”  
  
“Why don’t you join us for a drink?”  
  
“I guess I can’t decline, I have nothing else to do tonight.”  
  
“How strange, I’ll buy. What’ll have?” John scooted out of the booth.  
  
“The best scotch they have.” Mycroft sat next to Greg.  
  
John went to the bar and bought Mycroft and himself the finest scotch there was in the pub.   
  
When he turned to head back Sherlock was standing right behind him. “Jesus Christ.”  
  
“No but…”  
  
“Right, you rise from the dead three times.” He set the drinks back on the bar and wrapped his arms around the other man, “You’re back.”  
  
“Yes, I assume that you missed me?” Sherlock voice rumbled in his chest and John nearly melted at how it felt to have the other man’s arms around him.  
  
“Like mad.”  
  
“I did as well.”  
  
“Mycroft didn’t say that you were coming home.”  
  
“I told him I was going to surprise you. I’m glad you’re not hitting me this time.”  
  
“Because I knew that you were alive. I only punch terrible men who fake their deaths and reappear to me when I’m trying to get my life back together. Thank you for those texts by the way, made it a bit easier.” John buried his face into the other man’s shoulder.  
  
“John, I hate to have you detach from me but I would like to take you home now.”  
  
“No, no, I just spent way too much on a drink for your brother and me, I’m going to enjoy it. We don’t have to rush because you’re here for good now, right?” He pulled away and looked up at those unearthly eyes.  
  
“Correct.”  John kissed Sherlock quickly before picking the drinks back up and walking with Sherlock back to the table.  
  
“Oh! Sherlock, you’re home!”  
  
“Yes, Molly. I see that you’re dating Hunter now?”  
  
She smiled and nodded.  
  
“Good, he’s not a psychopath and isn’t a complete idiot.” Sherlock sniffed before taking a sip from John’s glass.  
  
“That’s, ah, thanks.” She laughed. “So, are you two…”  
  
“Together? Obviously.” Sherlock huffed. “I don’t normally let anyone hug or kiss me like that.”  
  
“I sure hope not.” John put his hand on Sherlock’s thigh.  
  
“It only took about five years.” Greg shook his head. “Should have happened a long time ago but neither of you had the bollocks.”  
  
“Bugger off.” John took a drink. “Damn, that’s good.”  
  
“Sometimes paying more for something pays off.” Sherlock grabbed the glass again.  
  
“Oi, I paid for that.”  
  
“I’m just making this all go a bit faster.”  
  
“I’ll take as long as I bloody well please, thank you very much.”  
  
Sherlock groaned and slumped down.  
  
“Please, just take him home and shag his brains out because he’s about to get all stroppy.” Greg complained.  
  
“Must you be so vulgar?” Mycroft shook his head.  
  
“Prude. Honestly Lestrade, what do you see in him?” Sherlock sneered.  
  
“I would as John the same.” Mycroft said over his scotch.  
  
John chuckled, “I missed you two arguing.”  
  
“No you didn’t, you just missed me.” Sherlock knocked his foot against his.  
  
“My whole life does not revolve around you.”  
  
Sherlock scoffed.  
  
The consulting detective suffered through an hour more before John decided it was enough torture for Sherlock.  
  
On their walk back to 221B Sherlock linked his arm around John’s elbow, “So how was the mission? How was… Anna?”  
  
“The mission was tedious. We had to infiltrate the organization… boring stuff, really. If you want I’ll go into detail tomorrow. Anna was interesting. I like her much more than Mary but there is a lot of Mary in Anna, at least I think unless if she was just used to acting like that with me.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“She told me that if I break your heart that she’ll kill me and no one will ever know.”  
  
John laughed, “I don’t think I’d put it passed her. You tested her to see if she’d shoot you before. I think after we talk all about your mission, we shouldn’t talk about Mary or Anna anymore.”  
  
“That sounds like an excellent idea. I’m sure we won’t have a problem with that because we’re rather good at not speaking about certain things.” Sherlock said as they turned on to Baker Street. “You know, I was thinking when I was away about why you love me.”  
  
“Oh? Yeah?”  
  
“At least one of the reasons.”  
  
“What is it?” John was curious about anything Sherlock thought, especially this.  
  
“You never had to talk about your feelings with me. You always hated expressing yourself that way because like myself, you do not like making yourself vulnerable because you don’t trust people with you heart.”  
  
“That’s why I fall in love with sociopaths… or pretend sociopaths.” John leaned into Sherlock. “You aren’t a real sociopath.”  
  
“Mmm, obvious, isn’t it?”  
  
“To me, probably not everyone else.” John paused. “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re home?”  
  
“As am I. I’m surprised you want me though, after all I’ve done to you.”  
  
John sighed, “Sherlock, do you know the biggest different between you and Mary… aside from the fact that she’s actually a cold hearted bitch and you’re not… it’s that you lied to me to save me and she lied to me to save herself.” He said as they got to 221.  
  
Sherlock smiled as he opened the door, letting John go in before him. Once inside Sherlock crowded John against the wall and brought him in for a passionate kiss, nibbling at his bottom lip before pulling away.  
  
John tugged him closer, “We can do this anytime we want now.”  
  
“And you won’t feel guilty.”  
  
He shook his head before kissing him again.  
  
“John - Sherlock! You’re home.” Sherlock moved away from John to turn around to look at their landlady. “I see you both finally came to your senses.”  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Hudson.”  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I was just curious what was happening in my entry way.”  
  
“We’ll take it upstairs.” John was blushing.  
  
“No worries. Sherlock, come for tea tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
He nodded before going up the stairs with John following.  
  
Without question Sherlock went straight to John’s room.  
  
“Only one thing on your mind?”  
  
“Is that a problem?”  
  
“Not at all.” John chuckled as they got into his room. “I missed everything about you so I don’t really care what we do tonight.”  
  
“Good because I’ve been thinking about this all day. Did you know that I rarely had sex before I met you?” Sherlock started unbutton his shirt as John shed his own t-shirt.  
  
“I figured, the married to your work bit.” John kicked off his shoes.  
  
“You are an exception to everything, it’s strange.”  
  
“Thanks.” He shucked off his jeans and pants before sitting against the headboard and looking at Sherlock was standing in the middle of the room thinking. “Have I lost you?”  
  
“No, no, just deducing your last six months.”  
  
“They’re boring months, I’ll tell you about them later. But right now, take off your trousers and get your arse over here.”  
  
“Yes, Captain Watson.” Sherlock nearly fell when he got out of his bottoms.  
  
“You’re not wearing underwear?”  John rolled his eyes. “You traveled without underwear.”  
  
“Actually I changed when I got into town because I was undercover on my way back.” He clambered on top of John. “I figured it would be quicker to undress when I got home.  
  
“I see.” He ran his hands down Sherlock’s back and gripped Sherlock’s arse.  
  
Sherlock pressed his body against John, grinding their cocks together. He pasted kisses to John’s jaw then moved to his throat.  
  
“I missed your lips.”  
  
He smiled against John’s skin before wiggling his way down John’s body, kissing and nuzzling at random spots that he probably thought was particularly John. Sherlock always went on and on about certain parts of John’s body that smelled especially like him.  
  
John spread his legs a bit wider as Sherlock settled between them, sucking, wet open mouth kisses on his inner thigh. “Lube?” Sherlock asked before licking from the base of John’s cock.  
  
He shivered, “I thought we had the agreement if you were doing the taking, you’d be getting the lube and condoms.”  
  
“We don’t need condoms and I’m not doing the taking, as you put it so delicately.”  
  
“You were going to blow me and get yourself ready at the same time.” John laughed, looking down at Sherlock.  
  
“Why are you laughing?”   
  
“Because you seem like you’re in a hurry to get off.”  
  
Sherlock stuck out his lower lip, “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t pout, it’s ok. We aren’t pretending to be friends with benefits anymore, we don’t have to act like it’s possibly the last time.” John reached down and tangled his fingers through his hair.  
  
“Oh, ok… so what do you want me to do?” He furrowed his brow.  
  
“Whatever you want.”  
  
He looked thoughtful for a moment.  
  
“Do you still want the - ahhh oh.” John’s mind short-circuited a moment as Sherlock swirled his tongue around the tip.  
  
“What was that?” Sherlock raised his eyebrow as he leaned up into John’s hand like a cat looking to be patted.  
  
John scratched his fingers lightly over his scalp and Sherlock let out a little content sound, “Lube, did you still want it?”  
  
“No, I’ll do this for you and then you can do that for me and after we can have intercourse.” He stroked John a bit lazily.  
 “All right.”   
  
Sherlock licked his shaft again and John nestled his fingers in his hair.   
  
“I hate to keep interrupting you but we don’t need condoms?”  
  
“Yes, Doctor Watson. We’re both free of STI’s.” Huffed a warm breath over him.  
  
John sniggered but it was quickly cut off when Sherlock wrapped his mouth around him. It was _wethotohmygod_. Sherlock left hand wrapped around the base as he paid most attention to the tip with his beautiful lips and talented tongue, every so often bobbing his head up and down.  
  
“You need to stop if you want me to fuck you.” John was panting as he tugged at Sherlock’s hair.  
  
He pulled off with an obscene noise, “I would hate to ruin that.” He wiped his hand across his wet, swollen lips before climbing back up and kissing John quickly. “How would you like me?”  
  
“On your side, while I prepare you and then you’re going to ride me.”  
  
“Brilliant.” Sherlock reached over to the night stand for the lube and then handed it to John before rolling on his side, facing away from him.  
  
He brushed his hand up and down Sherlock’s back for a moment, “You have the nicest back. And arse. Really you have the nicest body.” He pressed a kiss into his shoulder has he coated his fingers in the lube.  
  
“All you do is flatter me.”  
  
“How can I not?” He slid a finger into Sherlock, who groaned.  
  
“Don’t draw this out too much.”   
  
John found the other man’s prostate quickly, making him tense up and shout. “I won’t.”   
  
Eventually he added another finger and rested his head against Sherlock’s back to watch his fingers disappear deeper inside of Sherlock.  
  
“Mmm, good.”  
  
When John was satisfied he pulled his fingers out and tapped him on the thigh. He laid back and Sherlock kneeled over him after John put more lube on himself.   
  
Sherlock took John in his hand and lined himself up, biting his bottom lip between his teeth. John’s hands instinctively went to his hips and his head thumped back against the pillows as Sherlock suddenly engulfed him. He settled down to the hilt, sitting on John’s hips.  
  
“Are you ok?” John watched the other man who has his eyes closed and head tilted back.  
  
“Mmm, one minute. It’s a lot. Why’s this feel different this time?” Sherlock snapped his head foreword and squinted down at John.  
  
“I’d say it but it might sound too corny.”  
  
“Tell me or I’m never moving.”  
  
“Never? I don’t think -”  
  
“John.” Sherlock whined.  
  
“Ok, it’s different because we know how we both really feel, no more repressed feelings.” John tried to thrust up but Sherlock wouldn’t let him.  
  
“That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. We always knew how each other felt.”  
  
“Are we really having this conversation now?” John laughed and bit back a moan.  
  
“Oh, that felt good.” Sherlock rocked his hips a few times but stilled them.  
  
“It’s because we know that we have each other now. Last time we slept together it was a desperate goodbye. Every other time was either an adrenaline release or boredom relief, at least that’s what we said.”  
  
Sherlock considered it.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re actually thinking about this stuff with my cock up your arse.” John gripped his hips.  
  
“You’re still hard.” Sherlock ran his hand up his chest.  
  
“Difficult not to be when I’m buried inside of you.”  
  
“Ah, I’m annoying you.”  
  
“It’s - ooooook.”  
  
Sherlock raised up and quickly sank back down, “Better?” He repeated the action, leaning forward to brace his hands on John’s chest for leverage.  
  
“Fuck, yes.” He moved up to kiss Sherlock.  
  
He moaned against John’s lips, rotating his hips as they snogged for a few minutes.   
  
“Ok, enough of that.” Sherlock pulled away, nearly breathless. He could never keep it slow for long.  
  
John laughed he braced his feet on the bed and pushed up into Sherlock who thrusted down. They fell into a quick, hard rhythm. He wrapped a hand around Sherlock and matched their thrusts.  
  
“God, like that.” Sherlock said through his teeth.  “Don’t fucking move.  
  
They were each sweating and panting, “Come on John, come inside me, I want to feel it.”  
  
“Fuck.” John gasped, trying to move his hips faster and harder.  
  
“Come for me.” Sherlock whispered with a shaky breath. John felt his body tense and then it soundly unwound.  
  
Sherlock came with a bellow a few strokes later, all over John’s stomach.  
  
“That… that was good.” John said as Sherlock raised up, letting John slip out of him. “You’re never leaving me again. It’s not allowed.”  
  
Sherlock collapsed on top of him.  
  
“You’re heavy, sweaty, and sticky.”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“Roll off me, I’ll clean you off.”  
  
“Give me a moment.” Sherlock smiled against John’s shoulder. “And no, I won’t leave again.”  
  
“Unless if I come with you.”  
  
“Excellent.”  
  
“That sounds good. Now roll off so I can clean us up.” John laughed as Sherlock made a very annoyed sound.  
  
“If you must have your way.” Sherlock maneuvered off of him and buried his face into the pillow.  
  
John was sure that his smile was plastered to his face as he went to grab a went flannel from the bathroom. He cleaned off his stomach as he headed back to the room.   
  
Some how his mind wandered to marriage. He doubted Sherlock would ever want to go for it but maybe he thought he could use some logic.  
  
“I was thinking -” He sat back down on the bed and Sherlock didn’t move. “You’re sleeping.” John sighed. “That’s ok. I can tell you when you wake up.”

**—5 Months Later—**

John wandered into the garden to get away from his sister and Clara’s fussing to find Sherlock smoking, “Naughty boy.”  
  
“Oh, you were not supposed to catch me.” He pouted. “Also, do not use the words naughty and boy or boys together like that, it reminds me of Janine.”  
  
“Nervous?”  
  
“What do I have to be nervous about?” Sherlock flicked the cigarette on to the gravel and stepped on it.  
  
“Spending your life with someone, committing to something you said before was an archaic ritual and a bunch of other lovely stuff you shared with my wedding guests. I don’t want you suffocating under the chains of domesticity.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “That was before I got to do it with you.”  
  
“That may be the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.”  
  
“You may want to get ready for some more romantic things.” Sherlock took a deep breath.  
  
“Save it for the ceremony.”  
  
“I’d rather not share this with everyone.”  
  
“Ok, go ahead.” John licked his lips.  
  
“I was thinking about our first case and I asked what you would say when you were about to die.”  
  
“Yeah, what’d you say?”  
  
“I didn’t say anything, I don’t think I did at least. I thought.”  
  
“You thought?” John cocked his eyebrow.  “Of course you did, what did you think?”  
  
“Numerous things. But when I realized I needed to calm down to keep myself from going into shock so I thought of you… well I tried to but the Mary in my Mind Palace shot me because she’s been an obstacle from me getting to you for many reasons. Then I remember thinking about Moriarty because I felt that he knew how to block out his feelings. I realized that you were in danger at some point because I didn’t know what Mary wanted at the time or what she was going to do to you. I remember thinking “John Watson is in danger” and then I was waking up. Well, sort of awake because I slipped right back into unconsciousness and everything was very hazy.”  
  
John blinked a couple of times and tried to think of something to say to Sherlock because the man just told him that the only reason he was alive was because he needed to save him. The only thing that made sense was, “I love you too.”  
  
“I didn’t say -”  
  
“You don’t always have to say it to _say it_.”  
  
“Um, right.”  
  
John pulled Sherlock over by his tie and pressed his lips to his but jerked away, “Bloody hate kissing ashtrays.”  
  
“I love you too.” Sherlock pulled out a tin of mints from his pocket with a grin. “So, shall we go get married?”  
  
“Let’s. You realize that I can’t testify against you now, you know if you kill someone again.”  
  
“Same goes for me, why didn’t we do this a long time ago?”  
  
John threw his head back and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
